We're Back
by LizzieCharley
Summary: Response to mid-credits scene! Bucky is awake. The Avengers need to reunite due to a new threat from HYDRA or are the divisions in the team too deep? T for safety- rating may change for later chapters
1. Chapter 1- The Threat

**_July 2016- Europe-_**

The sun rose early over the city, bathing those setting up their market stall in a hazy half-light. They could already tell it was going to be boiling that day, and that was what they discussed, having no idea what was in stall for them. To all intents and purposes it was just a normal market day, the bustling crowd appeared about ten, focused solely on getting the best produce for the cheapest price in the crowded, cramped spaces between the many stalls. The square was filled by midday as the market only occurred once a month and was known as one of the best in the county. It also helped that it was located in a main square in the same quarter as the city's mayoral buildings, but not too close to them, meaning that although some of the shoppers were involved with the city's governance, most weren't, they were just after good deals.

A woman was walking through the market, down the main thoroughfare, and, despite the miniscule space available to them, people subconsciously moved to allow her passage. Something about her intimidated them, something they could not put their fingers on, something wasn't right. Any of the bystanders who overcame that feeling, even slightly, or were not too involved with arguing with one of the sellers over the fact that that avocado was completely overpriced, would have noticed that there was no obvious reason for their fear, but would have found themselves still unable to dismiss it completely. There was nothing overtly sinister about the woman. She was, in fact, quite pretty, of medium height and muscular built, as if she worked out a lot, or was some sort of personal trainer, with dark hair, pale, clear skin and beautiful grey eyes with plain lashes. She wore little make up and no jewellery and her clothes were completely nondescript, as if she was trying, rather unsuccessfully as it happened, to blend in with the crowd; black jeans, dark trainers, plain black t-shit and a black leather jacket, zipped nearly fully up despite the heat. On her back was a rucksack, bulging, although it was impossible to see what it contained and most observers would just have assumed that she had had a highly successful shopping trip, especially considering where she was. However, the more dedicated observer, or incredibly bored shopper, of which there were a number, may have looked closer at her eyes, and noticed that they were the source of that almost uncanny valley feeling. They looked odd, emotionless, dead almost, blank, and in complete contrast to the purposefulness she turned her head to check her surroundings, and continued to walk to an apparently highly important destination, a path still being cleared for her. Perhaps, at that point, they would have realised the reason for their uneasiness and backed away from the woman whom they now believed capable of anything, and maybe, just maybe, if they moved fast enough, escaped. Not many people looked at her, though, not really, to them she was just another twenty-something on a health drive.

To be honest, no one really noticed her, they were all too busy, too absorbed. Even when she approached the bin next to a super-smoothie stand (' _Green means clean!'_ ) dropped her bag and walked swiftly away, to the corner of the square. People continued, for the next five minutes at least, to buy smoothies and discuss if the red ones, which contained some unidentifiable fruit, were a rip off or not, if they actually worked. They did not notice the abandoned bag, despite the government warnings about safety plastered across streetlights and walls.

The woman stopped just at the point where one of the city's smaller, highly exclusive, residential streets leading off the square, and took out a phone. She gently tapped the screen a couple of times, pocketed it, turned and ran, heading for a black sedan parked about ten spaces down, the door of which was already open. Less than a minute later the car, and the woman, were gone.

Back in the market, the friendly, familiar background noise of hundreds of conversations and good-natured attempts at bargaining continued. That is, until a massive fireball engulfed the square, blowing away the stalls, shattering the windows of the neighbouring buildings and wiping out over three hundred lived at a stroke. For a moment after, just a moment, there was complete silence. Then the screaming started.

 ** _Avengers' Compound- 10 minutes later-_**

 _'… with over three hundred confirmed fatalities, possibly a thousand seriously injured and countless more with minor injuries, the local hospitals are overwhelmed. And the cause of the explosion is still unclear. We will keep you updated as we hear more. This is a live report by Anita Reyner on the developing situation following the explosion in Victory Square just over ten minutes ago…'_ The news anchor's would-be-calm voice emerged from five separate screens around the building. A few second later, the compound's three at least semi-permanent resident had entered the main room, matching looks of concern on their faces.

'Why would Fury bother to notify us about this? It seems like a clear-cut international terrorism incident, not our area.'

'He said that he suspected it could be related to the remains of HYDRA.' Vision replied to Rhodey's question, after a moment's thought. He was looking mildly uncomfortable in a dark wool jumper and suit trousers, sitting on the sofa next to the main speaker, watching Tony Stark begin to pace. 'If it is HYDRA, may I suggest perhaps …' Vision stopped, eyes still fixed on Tony, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken, but still weighing heavily in the air.

'You may not.' Stark snapped. 'They're been off the grid for over two months now. We don't know where they are, what they've been doing, and even if we did they are fugitives. If we are needed, which I doubt, we'll deal with this ourselves.'

Vision and Rhodey exchanged a look. 'You do realise that 'ourselves' is you, a teen whose been bitten by a spider and probably can't come due to homework, and Vision, right? I can't walk, let alone fly. You three against HYDRA. That's a terrible plan. Look, Stank, I know you don't want to but, realistically, you need them. The only way to get rid of the remnants of HYDRA once and for all is through, at least temporary, co-operation with the others.'

'No.'

 ** _A Compound, The Mountains, Wakanda- 30 minutes later-_**

 _Beep, buzz, beep, buzz, beep, buzz._ The phone vibrated itself across the glass table. _Beep, buzz._ It's owner, a handsome, blond, heavily muscled man, did not seem to have really registered its incessant ringing. He was too busy looking, rather absently, out over the emerald, mist-blanketed jungle through the room's window, past the huge panther statue, into the distance. _Beep, buzz, beep, buzz._

'Cap, for God's sake, can you please answer that? It's driving me crazy and that ringtone is shit.'

 _'Language.'_ Steven Grant Rogers, formerly Captain America, replied automatically. Sam pulled a bit of paper out of the notepad he had been writing in, scrunched it up into a ball, and, with a look of concentration on his face, lobbed it at his friend's head, who, once hit, finally turned his attention to the loudly ringing phone.

'Who'd be calling you now anyway? Except Carter, all our friends are here, and that doesn't look like her number.'

'It isn't.' After looking more closely at the displayed contact details, Steve elaborated, 'Stark,' and, with a look of complete astonishment, picked up. 'It's only been a month.'

'Wait a minute. After everything that happened, you gave _Stark_ your contact details. _Stark._ Seriously, do you have some kind of death wish? I mean, really? …' Steve raised his hand, mouthing _shush._

Sam watched Steve speak for a bit, not really listening to what was being said, instead gazing with concern at the worry lines developing on his friend's face as the conversation continued, remembering Nat's comment and agreeing with her assessment that sometimes Steve really resembled a kicked puppy, especially when worried. As the conversation continued, with mostly listening, punctuated by the occasional 'yeah' and 'right' Sam's eyes were drawn out of the window, as Steve's had been minutes before but, unlike Steve, he was actually looking at the scenery. Wakanda really was, in Sam's opinion, one of the most beautiful countries on Earth. He didn't mind living there at all, even though, if he was completely honest, it was one of only a few options open to them as international criminals, and he didn't really fancy the other option, a penitentiary. In addition to this, it had the advantage of being the country harbouring the now-frozen Barnes, who Steve, fairly, Sam thought, after the events of two months ago, didn't want to be too far away from.

He found himself admiring the multicoloured, tropical birds flying between the trees, and considering improvements to the FALCON gear, which would mostly involve making it more efficient and hopefully more Spiderman proof. _Perhaps I should speak to the Wakandan engineers …_ he thought. Wakanda was, after all, one of the world's foremost countries in terms of conservation and technological advancements. It also had the major advantage of not having signed, well, ratified, the Sokovia Accords, meaning that the scientists there were still willing to actually work with him.

Their new home, in Sam's opinion at any rate, was also far better than the Avengers' Compound, although he still missed it at times. The building which now housed the larger portion of the group which had once been called the Avengers, was a sleek, glass construction, with white panelled walls made of some entirely eco-friendly material (Sam had gotten a little lost when the kid … Shuri … had tried to explain the design to him). Despite its modern design, and the building having every convenience imaginable, and some unimaginable ones too for good measure, it seemed to be in perfect harmony with the surrounding mountainous jungles, a fact which was lost on Steve at the current time, as he continued to pace, staring into space as he listened to Stark, but not on Sam, even though he had to admit that he was more of a city person at heart. For the first time since joining Cap, after that, as it turned out, rather fateful run two years ago, he had finally had a few weeks of blissful peace and quiet, along with Nat, who seemed torn between enjoying the peace and becoming bored, Clint and family, Scott and Wanda, who were all living in the building with Steve and Sam, and occasional visits from T'Challa, with whom they seemed to be on the route to becoming good friends. It as though the peace had been too good to last, however, as it usually was.

Finally, after some half an hour, Cap finally placed the phone back on the table. The worry lines, however, remained.

'That was Stark.' He said, again.

'You said.'

'We need to call the whole group together, and T'Challa, I think he's visiting. There seems to be a situation developing back home … involving the remains of HYDRA.'

'Great.'

 ** _One Hour Later, Compound, Mountains, Wakanda-_**

'The explosion is old news, Steve. Fury called about half an hour ago. The up to date news is much worse. You all ready to get back into business? As we're definitely going to be needed.' Following Steve's very brief briefing, and five minutes' awkward silence in which they had all tried to process what had happened, unsuccessfully, Nat had finally decided to speak, knowing she'd have to mention Fury's call sooner or later and being unable to handle the discomfort in the room any more.

'We need Stark, Vision, and Rhodey here. It's serious, as per usual. Looks like the Avengers may have to, if possible, get back together, at least temporarily.'

'They're on Stark's jet. Could someone set up a video call?' Steve looked around hopefully.

A grin spread across Sam's face, which he quickly tried to conceal with his hand; Cap still struggled sometimes with some of the more basic modern technologies and, although he totally understood why, it still made him smile, to Steve's usually acute embarrassment. T'Challa, however, quickly complied, followed by the superheroes' five pairs of eyes, as they sat spread around the compound's modernistic, ultra-minimalist conference room. Apparently bored, Nat pulled out her phone and started typing, well, Sam presumed she was, as she didn't seem the sort to play games.

A minute later Stark's, admittedly not particularly happy, face appeared on the plain wall, which, it turned out on closer inspection, was actually a massive screen. Nat swiftly pocketed her phone, and began to speak again.

'Thanks for the initial briefing, Steve. The rest of you already know roughly what's happened.' She looked at Stark, who nodded, all of them ignoring the large elephant in the room which Sam knew would have to be dealt with soon, if this was every going to work. 'Anyway, Fury called me about half an hour ago. In brief, it looks like this wasn't a regular incident. It seems as though the attack was carried out by a young woman, who escaped in an unmarked black sedan, and who seems to have no identity, although I'll come back to that later. Local security forced haven't been able to find any security camera footage of her, as most of the cameras were destroyed. Eyewitness reports have been sketchy at best, they're all understandably pretty shaken up, and so the statements have varied quite drastically. The only things there seem to be a broad agreement on are that she was dark haired, pretty but over all quite nondescript. Most have said she appeared to be completely normal. However, one couple mentioned that she didn't look right. When pressed they said that this was, potentially, because she looked sort of, in their words, emotionless, with this dead look in her eyes, which freaked them out a bit. The explosives that were used are not very rare, could really have been made my any group with access to the internet, and were in her backpack, which she dropped in the market before detonating it at a safe distance. She then went, and has apparently remained, off the grid, which indicates training, especially as half the world has been after her. The odd thing is that there were no high-profile casualties, despite the incident occurring in the mayoral quarter, and no groups have claimed the attack and there are no really obvious motives for attacking the market. It's not a very high profile site.

As I said, the other odd thing is the woman herself. We have absolutely no idea who she is. Literally none. She appears on no-one's radar and, although admittedly we don't have much to go on, has no documents or previous photographs from other incidents linked to her. She also doesn't seem to be anyone's citizen, and therefore apparently has no identity. She's also, also as I said before, gone. There have been a total of no sightings since the incident.

Don't ask me how Fury got my new number, but apparently he has seen the footage and had it analysed. Due to the fact that quite a lot of things seem to be odd about this case, he's worried that the woman could be some kind of HYDRA enhanced or operative, or at least working for the organisation's remnants. He wants us to come back into the game, temporarily, to see how it goes, and is offering possible immunity and a waiver for the Sokovia Accords. He's pretty worried and will brief us fully as he finds out more if we decide to take this on. If we do, we would be working separately from the government, well, those of us who didn't sign, and without any interference.

There's also one more thing.' At which Nat looked from Steve to Tony and back again. 'I know he may not want this, Steve, but it has been suggested that Barnes should be brought out of cryo. We need to know more about what remains of HYDRA, and he's the best lead we have. He also, if this woman is working for HYDRA, might be able to provide a positive identification. At the very least, he could tell us she isn't working for them, meaning that we'd know to look into other organisations.

So, what do you think?'

There was an awful silence, as everyone digested the news, and people like Steve and Vision, who had actually been taking notes, albeit in different ways, one on paper, one on phone, read through them.

'Barnes has been there this entire time.' Tony was the first to speak, his face pale and furious. 'Sleeping when he should have been-'

'Tony, right now this isn't helping-' Rhodey tried.

'There is no way that man is being woken up. Not after everything he's done.'

 **Has been updated! Please review etc :)**


	2. Chapter 2- Bucky? Asset?

It was cold. Very cold. Despite the fact that the cryostasis chamber was sealed with the latest chemicals Wakanda, and therefore the world, had to offer, the room felt cold. The technicians knew, in theory, that the icy feeling they experienced day-to-day was completely psychological, as none of the freezing air could possibly escape, and if it did they would be alerted by sensors immediately, but seeing another human being frozen chilled them to the bone. Even though they knew that the man was unstable, that he had volunteered for this, most of them pitied him. Cryostasis was hard to watch. Unnatural. Uncomfortable.

The man in the chamber, who, according to his file was both James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes, Sergeant of the 107th and Steve Rogers' best friend, and the Winter Soldier, deadliest assassin of modern times, could be seen through the small, slightly misted glass of the sealed pod. He might have been handsome once, but HYDRA and the ice had made it extremely difficult to tell who he had once been. The technicians were growing accustomed to this; there were always a couple of them present, keeping an eye on the various devices attached to the pod monitoring him constantly for any kind of stress, which, with the Winter Soldier, could have terrible consequences, or for tissue damage of any sort, which would cause him to be brought out of cryo immediately. However, to the amazement of the techs, who admittedly did not have much experience of cryostasis, it being so unusual a procedure, his vitals were remarkably normal, well, for a super soldier with who-knew-what in his system. They were starting to believe that, perhaps, he had truly grown used to this. He was in perfect hibernation.

Below the coat of glass-like, beautifully patterned frost, his face bore an expression never seen when he was awake, that of serenity. Dark hair, tinted with ice, pulled back away from the face, all obvious wounds, except the metal stump which had once been his arm, healed, and eyes closed. However, at the current time, the man was dreaming, or, more accurately, remembering and subconsciously organising. Anyone who ignored the chamber surrounding him, and seen merely a sleeping man, would have presumed, maybe, that these dreams, if they could be called that, were peasant. They would have been wrong in a number of respects. Firstly, the dreams were most definitely not pleasant. Secondly, when not in cryo the man never slept. He couldn't. That's when his visitors came. Hundreds of dead faces, accusing him, reminding him. And the half remembered parts of a previous life, one which felt like it belonged to someone else … a different man …

As he slept the soldier … _Bucky …_ remembered kicking a ball he'd found in the trash down one of the soot-blackened streets in Brooklyn. It was slightly deflated, but still perfectly useable. There were no trees, no greenery at all in fact, just dirty, reddish brick apartment buildings, cramped shops and people, so many people … _faces … no! …_ They didn't really look at him, however. The small, dark haired child that was Bucky Barnes looked from the soccer ball, and his mended shoes, up at the windows of one of the buildings. He didn't know why. It wasn't his building. But, looking down from a window on the third floor was the pale, delicate face of a blond boy, about his own age, peering down at him. Bucky waved, and so did the other boy. _Did he know him? …_

The tiny slip of a boy was there again. This time Bucky was a year or so older, slightly taller and broader, and kicking another, equally ragged, football around a school yard with some friends. It was the first day of his second year there, and Bucky knew that his ma was going to skin him alive for ripping his new, immensely boring, brown school trousers when he had fallen on the asphalt ten minutes before. The blond boy … Steven Grant Rogers … the school ma'am had said … _Steve … Captain America? (Target?) … ally … friend …_ was standing at one side of the yard, looking at a weeping girl in a pink gingham dress, her blonde hair done up in pigtails. She'd just had her lunch and pocket money 'liberated' by a group of older boys. Her eyes were already red rimmed, her nose running … _weak … crying means punishment …_ None of the other children had noticed, it was too common an occurrence, and too risky of one to get involved in. Her tears were falling into the dust … _like blood … no! … What was real? She couldn't be bleeding? Could she? …_ The background was real. It was composed of a plain, red-brick school building, surrounded by hundreds of children of varying ages. It was almost indistinguishable from the decaying tenements surrounding it. The only difference, really, was the yard space. It was boiling … _warm?_ … The girl was there … _who?_ … She had been called something like Laura … Lula … Lucille Barrow, maybe … had he slept with her when they were twenty? He couldn't remember. Even if he had, he was pretty certain he'd never been serious about her.

The younger Bucky paused, for a reason he couldn't remember now, in his game, earning him a yell from one of the other boys, watching with growing incredulity as Steve, who looked so much younger than all the other kids flushed … _sick … delicate …_ with righteous anger, squared his thin shoulders and marched up to the bullies. Most of the other kids were watching now too, amazed that one of the littles would actual dare to challenge the playground status quo. Steve said something, something Bucky couldn't hear over the girl's sobs, and one of the bullies punched him, knocking him to the floor … _his asthma …_ ripping his trousers at the knee and covering him in dirt. _Stay down._ Steve didn't, in less than a minute he was up and a second or so after that back on the floor, this time with a split lip. Lucille was screaming now … _shut up! They'll come if you don't … stay down …_ thought the soldier, _you can't win._ Years later, Bucky was not sure what happened next of why, come to think of it, he wasn't sure he had really known at the time either, but he found himself running at the boys who were beating Steve … had one of them been called Thomas? Tommy? … Gang leader? … Always had it in for them? … _Target?_ … He could not hope to win, the other boys were in their final year and far, far bigger than him and far more experienced fighters, but nonetheless he went for them.

Once they had finally lost interest in beating Steve and Bucky to pulps, they walked off, taking Bucky's lunch with them, laughing. Bucky almost immediately checked the boy lying next to him. The boy returned the gesture with a true, warm, brilliant smile. _Steve's smile_ , which transformed his face completely.

'Thanks. James, isn't it? … Ernest is in my block, an' says he knows ya. … Friends?' gasped the blond hopefully.

'Nah. Bucky. Only ma calls me James, an' then only when she's mad. What were ya thinkin'? Stupid punk. Why didn't ya stay down?'

'Someone had to do somethin'. It wasn't right.'

'Yeah, someone. Not you. Didn't ya notice there were a hell of a lot of 'em? And how big they are?'

'I guess.'

And, again without being entirely sure why, Bucky said, 'Friends.' Then, noting the other boy's pallor with some concern. 'Y'alright?'

The smaller boy clearly wasn't, despite his nodding to the contrary. He was breathing hard. Too hard. Gasping, wheezing, struggling, desperately scratching for something in his pocket. Bucky didn't know what was happening, and the school ma'am hadn't noticed. He didn't know what to do. He could only watch …

They were in their teens now, maybe, and the best of friends. Bucky always looked out for Steve, who, despite Bucky's best efforts, still got beaten on a regular basis. But Bucky had grown considerably, and now, if given the chance, he could defend them both in a scrap. Steve was barely any bigger. He was sick so often that he had already had the last rites administered, and weighed ninety pounds soaking wet. However, he was the best friend Bucky had ever had. _Why pair yourself up with him? He won't last. He'll put you in danger,_ the soldier whispered in his head, incredulous. Because it's Steve, Bucky Barnes replied, and the only thing we really had was each other. He had a quick view of a much larger Steve fighting … and winning … _Target,_ said the soldier … or had that been Pierce? …

It was the mid, maybe late 1930s, and Bucky had organised a double date, which part of him thought had been a relatively regular occurrence … Dot and Marjorie? … Dot was his date, with dark hair… he preferred blondes, but she was a good distraction and a laugh. They went out dancing at least once a week but this time they were going to Coney Island. They'd been saving up for over a month. The lights, the fairground stalls, the rides, all of them tempted him to spend the small amount of money they had. It was beautiful. Margie, a medium-height brunette, barely even looked at Steve. Bucky was angry … _Target? …_ He didn't understand why she couldn't see how brave, kind and just plain nice Steve was. If he remembered correctly, however, which wasn't therefore certain, she'd never been particularly smart in her choice in guys. She might have married Tommy later. Shallow. … He'd gone with Dot on the ferris wheel. He shouldn't spend too much … Steve would need medicine when it got cold … what about rent? … Had he kissed Dot? They'd definitely been disturbed in an alley later by Marge, who'd wanted Dot to go home.

'Bye, doll. See ya soon.' She'd blushed an exquisite shade of pink when he'd dazzled her with his most winning smile …

'C'mon Steve, just once. It'll be fun.' Bucky had whined, perhaps an hour or so later. He'd been holding cotton candy, illuminated by the flashing lights, talking to Steve.

'That'd be all our money, Buck. Anyway, it's a rollercoaster, jerk, I'll throw up.'

'Nah, ya won't, stupid. C'mon …'

… Steve was throwing up in a trash can … glaring at Bucky during the pauses in his retching, but in a friendly way, he was attempting to smother a grin … was he ill? Had Bucky made him ill? He couldn't bear it …

… Each winter looked like the end, each extra year was a miracle. According to each doctor who came, Steve did not have long left. His health would reach a crisis point, then collapse completely, like his mother's was doing. Sarah could not fight the tuberculosis for much longer. Steve fought on, though, he was so brave. The main who was once Bucky Barnes remembered that he had practically lived in the Rogers' miniscule, freezing, draughty, damp apartment, listening to the two of them wheezing. Steve would not survive tuberculosis if he got it. Surely Sarah would go into hospital soon …

It was December, and another priest was delivering the last rites to Steve, who was flushed and feverish, red lips muttering unintelligibly. Wheezing. This was one of the worst illnesses yet, definitely the worst since Sarah had passed. Please God let him live … had they shared a bed? In order to survive, Steve needed Bucky's warmth. He was too small on his own, too ill, too cold. _Cold._ Bucky remembered trying to ignore something … and being worried ...

The blond asthmatic was now living in Bucky's apartment. It was small, one bedroom. Steve had been sleeping on the couch cushions, until he'd gotten too ill and they'd swapped. It had what seemed like hundreds of draughts, a shared tap and shared bathroom. Even so, they could barely afford the rent. Really, deep down, Bucky knew that Steve needed something larger, warmer, in the country, but that was unlikely ever to happen. In the winder, Steve could never work, so they tried to save over the summer months for blankets, food, medicines which were sure to be required … paints? Pencils? An artist, that's who his friend had been. He loved watching Steve's pencil move across the paper, capturing everything around them, and often Bucky himself …

There was a war. In Europe. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th was being shipped out. Steve wasn't, which Bucky was glad about. His friend wouldn't, couldn't survive in the army. He was still trying though, at every enlistment center he found. But Bucky was confident he wouldn't be able to join up. He remembered that the neatly typed enlistment papers had told him to be at the base by eight, in full uniform and with all his kit, in preparation for shipment to England. … Sergeant Barnes … the 107th … _Asset. Longing? HYDRA? …_ He had sat between two men, whom he didn't know, discussing some singer, watching the condensation slide slowly down the white metal wall of the cabin he'd been allocated for the voyage. Would Steve be ok? He'd send part of his wages back of course, with his letters, as well as some for his ma and sisters. But would Steve accept it? He was always so stubborn … _Captain America? Kill him. Target._ … Friend … something … no, not at that time, not now either … what had he wanted? No, present, did want? … Friend … Steve …

The other men had noticed his distraction. 'Ya pinin' for a dame back home, sarge?'

'Nah. Jus' thinkin' 'bout family and pals, is all?'

'Oh. I'm missin' my girl somethin' awful. Got beautiful dark hair an' eyes-' Bucky had stopped listening, merely nodding at appropriate intervals …

'Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Number-' He had to remember. But it was getting harder. What if they came back? Please let them not come back. No more of that stuff. He couldn't take it … couldn't cope … He was delirious … in pain … Please kill me … let me die … He stared at the whitewashed ceiling of the cave … it was dirty … and in the dirt he saw patterns … he saw … was it real? … Zola would be returning now … more experiments … more pain … what was he doing? … Bucky was becoming someone else … he could feel it … _Asset …_ His wrists were bound to the table with rough leather. He closed his eyes. It was cold. _So cold._ And he wasn't alone … There was someone in his head … someone else … Someone cold … There was someone in the room with him … Steve? … No, he's in Brooklyn, painting … the man in the room was too big … The man had saved him … It was Steve …

He was falling. Screaming. … Then there was the pain … Worse than Zola? … Was that Zola? … He hadn't been able to reach Steve's hand … _Not a target? …_ Bucky screamed … no, the soldier screamed … there was metal … his arm? … Was some of the screaming his? … There was blood … Electricity … More of what Zola had done before … But worse … Far worse … Bucky's mind was detached … he couldn't remember … he could … They were looking at him … their eyes as dead as his … or were they his own eyes …

 _'He's unstable. Erratic.' 'Prep him.' 'He's been out of cryo too long.' 'Then wipe him and start over.'_

There were faces … so many … he couldn't see them all … didn't want to … couldn't stop … he couldn't do anything … Howard Stark gazed up at him, horrid realisation and terror warring on his face, apologising … dead … Maria Stark … _Mission Report … Success …_ an elderly man … a young girl … a couple … a red-haired woman crouched in front of a middle-aged man … the shot went right through her, killing the man … The Romanov woman … he'd shot her … twice? … The faces started to scream … Steve? Help me? … No, you're dead … please … Where are you? … Who are you? … I don't know what to do … I don't know who I am … Do I have to kill Tony Stark? … You? … Bucky? … _Who the hell is Bucky?_ … my arm … I'm cold, so cold … _the Asset disobeyed its handlers. Punishment is required …_ what am I? Who? … Time had no meaning … only the cold … it was so very cold … always cold …

The soldier felt crap. He was dizzy, sick. There was a light. It was white. It blinded him. And there was warmth. Finally.

'He's stable, coming out of stasis now.'

Through the dazzling light he could see a glass tube rising so it no longer covered him. Everything was sort of fuzzy and, with the tube no longer there to support him, he fell into the warm light. This time, unlike in so many other recollections he had of awakening from stasis, someone caught him with gentle hands. He could vaguely make out a tall, blonde, heavily muscled man … caring … _warm…_ Concerned blue eyes gazed down at him as his own vision began to clear. It was his best friend.

'Steve?' He croaked. It was when his friend smiled a slightly worried smile back at him that it finally hit Bucky. 'Why'm'I awake? What's happened?'

'I'll explain in a minute.' Steve slowly helped him to his feet, letting go of his arms as soon as he was standing and taking a step back.

'Don't go.' Bucky was scared. He didn't know anyone else here. The others were in white coats … _technicians …_

'I'm here, Buck. Ain't goin' anywhere. I'm here 'til the end of the line, remember?'

 _Ready to comply,_ thought the soldier.

 **Updated! Please review etc! :)**


	3. Chapter 3- Starting to Work Together?

p class="MsoNormal"The room's atmosphere was already thick enough to be cut with a knife, even though Steve Rogers, and the man who had been the Winter Soldier had not yet arrived. To be fair, technically Tony Stark, Rhodey and Vision had not arrived either, but they could be seen as life-sized holograms floating above chairs around the table, giving them the impression of being physically there. Their actual bodies would, however, be arriving at the facility in less than an hour./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The conference room was modern, minimalist, containing only a sideboard with food and drinks, a large table, placed in the center of the room, made of some sort of white metal, chrome chairs, and a glass wall with a magnificent panorama of the jungle. No one was really appreciating any of this, however, they'd been in the room for almost three hours now and its appeal was running low. They were all too busy trying not to look at each other, or to break the complete silence which had descended, adding to the generally oppressive atmosphere. All of them were tense, plethoras of emotions crossing their faces as they waited …/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"At one end of the table, that closest to the window, was Tony Stark. His normally confident, cocky expression had deserted him, replaced by an odd mixture of fury, betrayal and something which could have been fear. He clearly had not been sleeping well, large black circles had appeared beneath his eyes and his face was a deathly pale. The usually perfectly trimmed black beard and moustache was slowly being engulfed by stubble. His panic attacks had been getting steadily worse, and he still had not managed to properly repair his relationship with Pepper, the emotional fallout from which was not being helped by the loss of the argument almost two hours ago over whether or not to wake the Soldier, whom Tony still viewed as a dangerous murderer, especially following his revelation that he had actually em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"remembered /emhis parents' murders. The whole thing, in his view, was a complete shit show, made worse by the fact that T'Challa, whom Tony had considered reasonable, had been hiding and protecting the Soldiers and Team Rogers from international justice for the last few months. Still, it had been a majority vote, and therefore had to be accepted, em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"even though he couldn't understand the justification for the others voting the way they did …/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Meanwhile, Sam, Vision, Rhodey and Clint were all examining the floor, either the smooth white floor of the conference room, or the beige-carpeted floor of Tony's jet depending upon their location. They were attempting not to think about the potential ordeals to come; it was not the fighting they were particularly worried about, they were used to that, but the earlier discussion between Steve and Tony hasn't exactly been civil, and the coming discussions were likely to be even less so. Vision was the only once who was occasionally looking up, occasionally meeting Wanda Maximoff's gaze for a moment, after which they would both quickly glance back down again, both pretending not to have noticed the other …/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"As before, Natasha Romanov was still utterly absorbed with her phone, checking for any signs of the young woman who was the main subject of this … em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"interesting /em… meeting. The new threat. So far her contacts in Russia, the USA, Eastern and Western Europe had come up blank and she was still waiting on the others. Despite the worry associated with a new, apparently unknown, operative, part of her, a part she wasn't necessarily proud of, did see the potential for some positives to come out of this situation as, perhaps, it would force Tony and Steve to maybe rebuilt at least a working partnership, em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"but then again, considering the earlier conversation, maybe not. /emstrong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"Sorry, she's not on our database, /stronganother of her contacts replied. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"The woman can't have vanished into thin air. /emThis lack of information, Nat knew, meant one of two things was occurring, either someone was helping her, which was disturbing, or, even worse, she was another enhanced. That, she was beginning to think, was a distinct possibility. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"But hopefully not, please … as that means someone else can make them … and control them … /em/p  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border-top: solid windowtext 3.0pt; border-left: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 3.0pt; border-right: none; mso-border-top-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-top-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 1.0pt 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"Thousands of miles away, in a different city, where there was snow still on the ground, a cool grey sun illuminated a large concrete and glass skyscraper halfway down a mostly residential street. The street was empty, as, in that city, the morning rush hour had not yet begun, except for a young woman, who was walking towards the building. She was tall and dark haired, athletically built, with odd, slightly blank grey eyes. She was carrying a navy blue backpack./p  
/div  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"A slight collective jump passed around the conference room as the sealed doors opened with a loud hiss. They all looked alert, focused, but relaxed slightly once they saw it was just T'Challa, unaccompanied. A little of the tension remained, however, as all present knew that the minute Cap and the Winter Soldier arrived, things would get very uncomfortable very fast, and they all knew that moment would come soon./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"T'Challa settled himself in a chair on the side of the conference room closest to the window before he spoke. 'I am pleased to say that Mr Barnes has been successfully awakened.' He purposefully the dirty look on Tony's face. 'The medics are just completing a couple of tests, but he and Captain Rogers should be joining us shortly.' He smiled in a valiant, but largely unsuccessful attempt to lighten the atmosphere slightly. 'Does anyone want any refreshments? No? Ok. Has your landing time remained the same, Mr Stark?'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Yes, yes. Just to re-iterate, though, I still think this whole thing is a terrible idea. The man clearly isn't-'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Tony, please, we've discussed this. He's awake now and the best potential lead we have.' Nat didn't look up from her phone, still skimming the web and waiting for her final few contacts to respond, as she interrupted him./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'The best for what? For us, for this em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"team. /emThe Avengers don't exist any more. He may sure of that.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Please, just try to be at least semi-civil. We're not asking you to be best buddied, just that you spend five minutes of your time listening to him, then you probably won't have to see him every again. Ok?'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Silence. The door hissed again, and opened. Steve came in first, clad in brand new blue jeans, white sneakers, and a white polo top; which seemed to have become his go to outfit. The usually calm, perfect smile, looked slightly strained as he pulled out two of the chrome chairs on T'Challa's side of the table, settling himself in one, and gently gesturing to the other at someone on the other side of the door. Steve and Tony purposefully avoided looking at each other, Tony becoming suddenly very interesting in the volume of his screen, Steve's expression becoming even more pained as he ran his hands through and tugged at his short golden hair for a moment before following the others' lead and gazing at the table morosely. Both men were recalling their last discussion, about waking up the Soldier, and before that Siberia. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"It wasn't personal. I just had to get Bucky out. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know you don't, won't believe me, but I am. I'm sorry about your parents, sorry about not telling you, sorry about all of it. But I don't regret my actions overall. In that respect, at least, my conscience is clear./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"A couple of seconds later the second man, the man Steve had been gesturing at, walked in. He was Steve's complete and utter opposite, despite their both having had super-soldier serums, meaning they were muscled and stronger than your average human. Bucky was dark haired and pale, where Steve was blond and rosy. Steve's blue eyes were warm and glittered, while the other man's were grey, sometimes vacant and usually pained. Steve was as relaxed as it was possible to be in the current situation; Bucky's stance was still, wary, as if he expected, in this case quite reasonably, to be attacked at any moment. He kept his back to the wall of the room, his eyes on the other occupants. The way he walked was slightly awkward as he was over-compensating for the stump which had been his metal arm, attempting to keep it behind him at all times, out of sight of the other occupants of the room, protecting himself. His was chewing his lip, which was still quite white, blue almost, an after effect of the cryostasis chamber. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Targets? Half of the people here have tried to kill me, and more importantly Steve. Should he …? strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"Shut up/strong/emstrong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;", /strongJames 'Bucky' Barnes told the Soldier firmly, strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"not helping. /em/strongIt was only when he saw the others' expressions, ranging from startled to concerned to downright alarmed, that he realised he'd said it aloud. The Winter Soldier, maybe, settled next to Steve, who pulled his chair slightly closer to his friend, provoking discreet sideways glances between Nat and Sam. The Captain didn't notice, focused on Bucky, who was in turn watching Steve./p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;" /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Ping. /emThe noise caused everyone in the room, except Sam, who had sent the message to Nat in the first place, to jump perceptibly. The Soldier made as though to get up, scared, only settling again after a reassuring glance from Steve, trying to ignore the others' stares./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Sorry, I'll just put it on silent.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Thank you. Right.' T'Challa began, taking advantage of the situation. 'If everyone wouldn't mind taking a quick look over the briefing file.' There was rustling as most of the room got out and began to tap away on their tablets. Nat took advantage of the others' distraction to read the text, and was thankful immediately afterwards that the others were focused on the briefing, as she didn't want a certain Captain and ex-assassin to find out about this conversation. strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"How much?/strong, she read, catching sight of Sam's conspirator's grin. She returned it./p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"$100. /strongShe immediately replied. Unlike hers, Falcon's phone was apparently on silent./p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"Deal!/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"He kissed Carter. /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"I don't care. /strongA snort of laughter earned her a reproving stare from T'Challa./p  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 3.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"After about ten minutes, in which everyone read their briefing files thoroughly, Nat spoke, taking charge as, due to her connections, she was in possession of a bit more information than the rest of the group. 'I presume we're all up to date with the situation, so now we have to deal with it, then we can all go back to doing what we were before and no one has to work with anyone else here again if they don't want to.' She looked pointedly at Tony, who stared back, then at Steve, who had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, a blush caressing his cheekbones. 'I am sorry about this, Barnes, but we've got to ask you some question. It's ok if you don't know anything, though.'/p  
/div  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The rush hour was just beginning to get underway and the woman earnt a few wolf whistles and cat-calls from passing male commuters, who looked at her admiringly. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Annoyances. /emThe handlers wouldn't want her to notice, to act, nothing to do with her mission./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"At the end of the dirty, cobbled street was the skyscraper. It was currently encased in scaffolding, but it was possible to discern shadowy figures moving behind the heavily tinted glass. It was a government research facility, the locals had been told, but no one knew what they were researching or who actually worked there. The local populace just watched and quietly speculated, although that had been happening less recently, as they got used to the facility, and the serious looking, besuited officials who entered at 9am and left at 5pm, always on the dot, sometimes in Porsches, Lamborghinis, Ferraris …, cars which they parked in locked garages, which were totally unsuited to this run-down, but historic- quarter of the city. Even the building itself stood out like a sore thumb … it had been built originally as flats in the '60s, towering high above the three and four storey 19supth/sup century building which were typical in the area, but had been empty for years before the government took it over, claiming to be regenerating the area. And as for the lorries arriving nightly, well, the residents had complained about the noise, but had just received a cold, official response, entirely lacking in real information, in return; it had apologised for the noise, but had done so whilst indicating that the work being done in the building was worth far more to the government than the residents' sleep./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The woman paused halfway along the street, assessing the area and, more important, the building itself. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Retrieval. Yes. The building is relatively well fortified, but not impossibly so. Yes./em She could do this. She had no choice. She knew the consequences of disobedience./p  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 3.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"Slowly, ever so slowly, so as not to catch anyone's attention, she skirted into a side street./p  
/div  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The Winter Soldier looked shit. That was the only possible word Sam could find to describe it. He was dishevelled, haunted, unshaven and tired, shown clearly by the dark bags under his eyes. He also looked incredibly uncomfortable, which, Sam supposed, was to be expected, considering the situation he was currently in. Sam, if he was honest, didn't particularly like the man, didn't really know him and definitely didn't think it was healthy for Steve, who he did know well, to be around him for an extended period of time … especially with the lengths Cap went to to protect the Soldier. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Damn you, Steve. You know him as well as I do now, you just can't see it. /emNonetheless, despite his concerns, he couldn't help but pity them both. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"What a situation. And those two so oblivious, bless them. They are practically sitting on each other./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'I d-don't know, she could be H-HYDRA.' The Soldier was still shivering with a remembered cold. Steve lent over to tap a screen, turning up the thermostat (he hoped), and the Soldier gave him a tentative, grateful smile. 'S-she could be anyone, really, that picture quality is so poor. Don't you have any better intel, or a better photo. I can't remember her. I don't think I can, anyway, but then again …'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He stopped, looking around warily but everyone avoided eye contact; the former team were well aware of the issues associated with Barnes' memory. Cap, however, had leaned over again, this time to squeeze his friend's shoulder. Steve was worried, Bucky was nowhere near fully back, his mind still fragmented, and he was scared. He'd seen what remained of his best friend, his partner … his … he didn't know the words to describe what Bucky meant to him, didn't think that there were any, in those notebooks. But there was so little in them. So much to come back, if it ever did. Steve did know, however, that whatever HYDRA had done had been horrific, cruel, and in a deep part of his mind, a part he was glad that the Avengers, and before that the SSR and Howling Commandos, had killed so many members of that organisation. That it had appeared to be finally over …/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Well, that was extremely helpful. Completely worth waking him up for that.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Mr Stark, although I am sympathetic to your position, please be quiet, unless you have an actual, helpful, comment to make, or I'll mute you. Now, Sergeant Barnes, are as certain as possible that you do not recognise this woman?'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Look,' Barnes interjected, rather suddenly. 'I don't want you to fight. I'm not worth it.' Steve's seemed to be about to speak, but Bucky continued, rather more firmly. 'And I don't think I know her … I can't remember … If you don't want anything else, I want- I want to go back into stasis.' Bucky got to his feet, preparing to go back to the stasis chamber, back to where it was safe./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'No Buck-' As Bucky had had his back turned, he hadn't noticed Steve freeze for a split second when the ex-assassin got shakily to his feet and make to leave. The former Avengers had also followed Barnes' lead, starting to shuffle whilst Tony made to end the video call, at the same time beginning to tell Friday to turn the jet back around./p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;" /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Natasha's phone had gone off again, though at the time she and Wanda were the only ones to really take that in as the rest were almost out of the door. 'You should probably get that.' Wanda said, speaking for the first time since the Avengers had met./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Nat read, shock, horror and then something which, if it were possible, resembled fear crossed her face in series./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'You need to be careful what you wish for, Barnes,' she called to the retreating figures, calling them back. 'A clearer image of the woman has just turned up.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Everyone hurried back to their seats, and Tony maintained the video call, all of their interests piqued. 'Show it.' T'Challa tapped a few buttons on the table, pulling up a frozen hologram picture of a slim, pretty, dark haired woman, with empty grey eyes, and very pale skin. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers, a dark shirt and black leather jacket. The vacant eyes were not focused on the camera, instead on a backpack which she had presumably just placed next to the outer-wall of a '60s building in the middle of a quiet street. Unlike the previous, pixelated picture, this photo was crystal clear./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'She shot out the camera a few seconds after this was taken,' Nat said, her voice strangely disconnected, concerning the others still further./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Well, at least we've got a better look at her.' Sam commented, attempting to break the tension somewhat, hoping for the best but knowing that it wasn't coming. 'She appears to actually have proper features now, very reassuring. How come we've got this now anyway?'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Well … unfortunately she just destroyed a research facility in Europe. No survivors. The good news, however, is that there actually appears to be a motive this time at least. The facility she attacked was involved in drug and weapons production, used to work with SHIELD, apparently. The international community is pretty worried, according to the news, as she got past some pretty high level security to attack this facility.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'No shit.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Language!'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Sorry, Rogers.' Sam smiled as Tony emitted a noise which could have been a stifled laugh, though his face was emotionless when everyone turned to look./p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;" /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Dark hair, haunted eyes, slightly upturned lips … ice … Asset?/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Hey, Stevie, I-I think I might know her.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'What?' All eyes were on Barnes now. 'Where? You sure Buck?' Steve's tone was urgent, concerned./p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;" /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Oh crap- sorry Steve- I think you might be awake for a bit longer now Barnes. Most of the intelligence community will be after her now, and whoever she's working for, though I think that will become obvious pretty soon, according to this … It's awful! … A disc was dropped off at the old Avengers' Facility a few minutes ago. T'Challa, can you pull this up on the full screen please?'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Of course.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Another holographic screen appeared next to the image of the woman. There was an excruciating two minute video of the facility that had been attacked exploding into a very large fireball. But the worst was yet to come as, for a few seconds the screen went black and, after that, for a brief moment a book was pressed to the camera. A small red book with a black star./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Then all hell broke loose./p 


	4. Chapter 4- On the Road Again

p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"Compound, Wakanda-/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span style="text-decoration: none;" /span/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"The awful image of the little red leather notebook, small, delicate almost, for something so evil, only stayed on the screen for a couple of seconds, but that was long enough. Long enough for everyone to see. Long enough for the man who had been James Buchanan Barnes, more commonly known as Bucky, to freeze, eyes fixed in terror on the screen. Shock, a wish to flee, and something which could have been longing, all crossed his haggard features in rapid succession; his face eventually settling on a look which mixed terror with a desire to do nothing more than become invisible, though he would have settled maybe just to be swallowed by the ground immediately, and dragged to the hell he was sure he deserved. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Why? Why couldn't they just have destroyed it? Why couldn't they have just left me in peace? Or destroyed me? Why couldn't they have left me on ice, if nothing else? It would have been for the best. I'm not worth it, Stevie. I'll kill someone … maybe you … maybe something worse. No, I can't allow it … ice? strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"Comply? /strongShut up!/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;" /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"The room's other occupants were too busy expressing the horror they themselves felt to notice Bucky's inner turmoil, of which they guessed a little but were mostly utterly, blissfully ignorant. They were focused on their own shock, their own disgust at what had been allowed to grow in the cradle of SHIELD, and disgust at what that parasitic growth had done. It took them a while to re-locate their words…/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Unusually, it wasn't Tony Stark, on whose face storms were brewing, but Falcon, who spoke first. 'Brilliant! Typical! HYDRA, or someone like it, has it! That's just perfect, that is!' Falcon put his head in his hands, groaning, tired. 'And I thought we had finally got rid of the bastards.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Language.' Came three separate, slightly wan, voices, one of which belonged to a wincing Steve./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'That may not necessarily be the same book.' Hoped, almost pleaded, Wanda. 'Please let it not be the same book … but even it if is, that doesn't mean that their use of it is in any way related to these attacks.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Sorry Wanda, but as if.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'I'm just going to make a suggestion here.' Tony had finally found his voice. 'How about the Winter Soldier over there gets put on ice immediately? Ideally before he kills someone? Like us? After all, it isn't as if he-' Stark carried on speaking, but no one heard as T'Challa's finger gently left the mute button. The rest of the room started a very heated discussion./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"A loud shriek of metal against metal caused the room's occupants to quieten as Steve pushed his chair back, discreetly slipping his hand from where it had been resting on Bucky's leg, comforting his now silent friend, before anyone else saw. As he stood, it became obvious to anyone with eyes that he wanted nothing more than for this to be over, his pallor an almost exact match to the white of the conference room's furnishings. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"My whole life, Peggy's life, Bucky's life and so many others, fighting this, and it still isn't over … /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'We may still need Bucky,' he said, quietly. 'And so it may be unwise to put him back on ice until we know whether-'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Steve- Stevie- you know what that … book … does to me. What the soldier does.' em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"That's a lie for starters, but white lies don't count, do they? '/emAnd what he could do in the wrong hands. I don't want to kill anyone else, or cause any more damage than I already have. I can't live with that possibility, I just can't. At best I'm a liability, at worst an actual danger to everyone here. Please, just let me be put back on ice, for everyone's sake.' A smattering of nods spread around the room, the most noticeable belonging to Tony Stark, who was agreeing with the Winter Soldier for the first time … well, ever. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"At least one person is being sensible. /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'No. Mr Barnes needs time awake to recover, putting him back on ice won't solve anything for the time being, and I agree with Captain Rogers that he might know something, even subconsciously, that we might need. As it is, Tony and the rest still have to properly arrive and I think we would all benefit from a moment to calm down. Meeting adjourned for now.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span style="text-decoration: none;" /span/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"Tony Stark, Compound, Wakanda-/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Things could not have been much worse. Yes, to be fair, Wakanda was beautiful, and yes, Tony would have liked to spend some time in the country acquainting himself with their technology, which seemed remarkably advanced, maybe more even than his own … but not now. Not like this. If only he had the time pause, to take stock. Time shouldn't have been a problem, normally, after all it wasn't as if he wanted as if he wanted to stay in Malibu, or Washington DC, or New York, at the moment … without Pepper … no, he wouldn't think about that. Couldn't. Not now. A clear head was going to be essential in the current situation, especially since Steve Rogers and most of the other former Avengers seemed to have lost theirs. No, time was a problem because of the company, because of the events. Because he was so, so tired./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Tony, Vision and Rhodey had landed twenty minutes before, an hour after the meeting, after which the Winter Soldier was still free, contrary to Tony's advice, which would before have been properly considered. But now, now they all seem to have rather fallen under Rogers' spell. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Honestly, what does Cap (not that he even deserved to be called that now, Nomad, isn't it?) see in that man. Why has he chosen him over me as a friend? /emIt seemed as though everyone was leaving at the moment- Steve, Fury, Nat, Pepper … em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"no, stop it! /emShe was not coming back, not now he had shown himself to be unwilling, no, unable, to stop being Iron Man. The only thing Pepper seemed to want was the one thing he couldn't possibly give her, the one this that all of his money couldn't buy- a normal life./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"If things had been even a little different- perhaps if he had been able to give up the suit, or if she had been more accommodating of it- they probably would have been engaged, a thought which he tried to ignore, but kept returning, no matter what he did. He knew that his world could not revolve around what ifs, knew that it was not healthy, but it seemed to be the only state of existence he could manage at the moment. He could not be at the one place he wanted to be, it didn't exist anymore. Maybe focusing on something, like Rhodey had repeatedly said, even if it was the emergence of a new threat, would be a good thing. Perhaps it would help distract Tony from how he was feeling in his heart, which he most definitely had. From the worry. From the way his walls were crumbling, and the way he could do nothing to stop them./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"After their arrival, some of T'Challa's attendants had led them slowly down a stark, white corridor, which seemed to glow with its own, internal, light which opened up the otherwise potentially oppressive space. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Thump. /emThe sound of Rhodey's walking device was obscenely loud, stabbing through the silence, worsening Tony's growing headache. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Thump. /emThe attendants were purposefully pretending not to notice the noise, the noise which brought Tony back to himself, stopped him pondering, reminded him of all the recent events. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Thump. /emTony squeezed his best friend's shoulder, smiling in a way which he hoped was supportive. He knew he still needed to further tweak the device. Focusing on Rhodey was most definitely easier, easier than focusing on the oncoming ordeal of dealing with Cap and his amnesiac, mass murdering, Soviet-assassin boyfriend. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Really, no two straight guys are that close, even if they haven't realised it, a lot of others were starting to. /emIf Tony had been able to, and the situation had been less serious, he might have found it amusing. The sheer distance Cap went for this man, it reminded Tony of another relationship, one he wished he still had … em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"stop it! Dwelling on it won't change anything./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"After a little while, the woman who had been leading them around the medical facility turned to face the left-hand wall, tapped a small, discrete screen encased in the wall itself, opening a previously invisible door into a large suite./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Here is where you will be staying, Mr Stark. Let us know if you need anything. The King requests that you change and rest in preparation for a further meeting in two hours.' With that, she left, beckoning Rhodey and Vision to follow her to their quarters./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Stark had deliberately not brought the Parker kid into it this time, as per the young man's wishes. If he was honest, he was aware that Peter was really just a kid, a brilliant kid, but a kid nonetheless. Despite his constant enthusiastic and slightly star-struck behaviour, pretty much all of the other facets of his character reminded Tony of himself at Peter's age. God, they even looked quite similar, sharing dark-ish brown hair and reasonably similar heights and builds. Admittedly, he was more comfortable with Peter, despite the boy's flaws, than around the Vision. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"I mean, who can be worthy enough to wield Thor's hammer, and constantly uses a power they don't understand in the slightest … well, perhaps I shouldn't jump to place blame on that front … but he's nothing like JARVIS./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;" /em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Beep. /emstrong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"'What do you think of all this?' /strongSo, it appeared as though Nat was extending an olive branch, even if it was just by text. For a moment, Tony considered not replying, but then again … at least she'd managed to get his name right … em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Stank, seriously?/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"'All shit. You?' /strongWas all his tired brain could muster./p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"'LANGUAGE!' /strongTony managed a small smile at that, Nat knew him too well … and hadn't mentioned Pepper yet, which was a definite bonus. strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"'Just try not to kill Cap or his bf yet pls? We may need them.'/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"'Is there something I should know then, Nat? /strongstrong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI Emoji',sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol-ext; mso-symbol-font-family: 'Segoe UI Emoji';"😉/span'/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"'No, just kidding, unless you want in on a small bet?'/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" /strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"'I'm listening.'/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The small smile remained as the conversation continued until Tony Stark turned and crossed the surprisingly homely living room to have a shower./p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span style="text-decoration: none;" /span/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"Steve Rogers, Compound, Wakanda-/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The suite he had been led to was lovely. It was the same one Steve had stayed in during Bucky's freezing procedure. This apartment his favourite one since he had come out of ice, it was perhaps double, no triple, the size of Steve's DC apartment, which he, to be honest, had not lived in for particularly long, but had the homeliness of the apartment Steve had shared with Buck before the war. That apartment, however, could easily have fit in the living room he was standing in. Once again the sheer difference between the rest of the facility and the living suites struck him. Modern, metallic lines had been replaced by soft yellow walls, wooden furniture and a soft looking beige leather couch, though he had a feeling that this apartment had been designed specifically to make him feel at home, and that the others might be a little different. It had certainly succeeded on the comfort front; he could relax here, call him old fashioned but the minimalist décor of the rest of the facility put him on edge, reminded him of … things …/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Quashing this train of thought with practiced vigour he walked to the glass wall, present in all of the facility's rooms, gazing out onto the jungle vista. Lord, he had to draw this. However, his sketch book was still in his travel bag and he had more pressing matters to deal with; mainly the matter currently sitting in the bedroom of his suite. Bracing himself, he went to start dealing with the current issue, rather reluctantly leaving the view behind./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Seated on the window seat behind the cushion-covered bed, was Steve's best friend, brother … em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"cr- … /emBucky. Finally back and reunited with Steve at last. His best friend's now customary unreadable, even for Steve, expression worried him. He was clearly, and with good reason, struggling. PTSD (Steve had known it a shell shock, and, when the doctors had tried to tell Steve that he also had it had responded with em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"'No, I don't have the time.' /emAnd that was true, since he'd woken up, he had made sure he didn't have time to think, didn't want to. Sam had told him he needed to make the time to think stuff through, and he would, when he had the time, eventually). Cryostasis. The aftermath of torture … and all that had come along with that, everything Steve did not really want to think about. Being out of his time, their time… Each separate event seemed to have made him more and more withdrawn. More damaged./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Steve coughed, making sure to make a noise so that Bucky was not too startled by his appearance./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Hey Buck. Y'all right?' em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Stupid question, really./em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'I guess. What 'bout you?' A small smile, similar to that worn by Tony Stark less than ten minutes before caressed Bucky's features, and caused Steve to feel as though he had been stabbed. That small gesture reminded him of the man he had known, before the fall, before the Winter Soldier. It was a smile he had seen ten thousand times before, one that said Bucky was tired, but keeping it together for Steve's sake./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"''m fine. So, back to Europe again. Why is it that whenever we got there something crap happens, or has happened? Anyway, speakin' of Europe, have ya seen that Carter dame again? Call her?' The smile had changed again, becoming a little mischievous, but his eyes didn't quite manage to follow suit; they bore an odd look, hopelessness, exhaustion and something which looked like resigniation, but that could just have been Steve's imagination./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Steve took a moment before replying, wondering how best to phrase his response. In the end he settled on plain and obvious. 'Nah. Figured it'd be a bit odd, dating my best girl's niece. We're friends, but nothin' more.' Brooklyn accent returning with a vengeance, he noted. With any luck it would help to job some more of Bucky's memories, so more than the fragments written in his notebooks would return. Maybe it was selfish, unseemly, but a deep, dark part of him, which he tried not to acknowledge, wanted more than just his friend back. It wanted a companion. Someone with shared life experiences, as Nat had said. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Do I want too much from him?/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Ya sure, Stevie? Ya awful quiet.'/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"''m grand. Jus' … worried about HYDRA. We're the on'y ones who know what they're really capable of at the height of their power.' Bucky shifted uneasily in agreement, and then looked away, rubbing absentmindedly at the livid scar tissue beneath his shirt, marking the transition between flesh and metal, man and machine. 'Glad to have ya back though, jerk.' Steve tried, unsuccessfully, for some levity, for a return to some of their old banter. 'Don' ya leave me 'gain, ya hear? 'Cos I'm with ya 'til the end of the line, pal.' Bending down, he hugged the other man, trying to ignore, and mentally apologising, when his friend flinched before relaxing into the hug, and the traitorous pounding of his own heart. This was worth it, though, worth all the turmoil./p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span style="text-decoration: none;" /span/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal"strong style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="text-decoration: underline;"James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes, Compound, Wakanda-/span/em/strong/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Hugging Steve was nice, too nice. He didn't deserve it, not after all he had done, but Steve wouldn't listen if Bucky contradicted him, he never had. Bucky would willingly admit to himself that he had been in love with Steven Grant Rogers since he was a teenager, but he would rather endure all of HYDRA's torture again before he would admit that fact to the object of his affection. This was why, after only a couple of minutes, he forced himself to push Steve away, and retreated to the privacy of the bathroom, where he could take some time, where he could think. He had remained there, just staring at the tiled wall, trying to sort through the day's events, and thankful Steve was letting him have some peace, until he had been called to go to the jet. Apparently Steve, or someone, had packed for him./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Now, here they were, standing next to each other inside the rapidly rising Quinjet on which the whole group would be trapped with each other for the next ten hours, minimum. Bucky was occasionally being gently poked or prodded by Steve, but that was ok, reassuring even, they'd always been quite touchy-feely before the war, and even during it, always nudging, poking, throwing arms around each other, even sharing beds … that would never happen now though, Steve needed his sleep and Bucky had his night terrors./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He could not really remember much, but the fragments, unlike so many of his returning memories, were at least pleasurable, if confusing. However, that train of thought ended sharply when he surveyed his surroundings, a habit he knew he would never be able to shake. Everyone looked worried, and Tony Stark's death glare, which was nearly as impressive as the Winter Soldier's own, was fixed on him again. em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"They should have put me back on ice, and doesn't he know it./em/p  
div style="mso-element: para-border-div; border: none; border-bottom: solid windowtext 3.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: wave windowtext 3.0pt; padding: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"This was going to be an interesting trip./p  
/div  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Someone was screaming. It could be her, but she was not sure. All she could do was attempt to dissociate, which she did, shrieking around her mouth guard. But not too loud. Never too loud. She would be punished if she was too loud. If she had known of the existence of any gods, she might have prayed, prayed for the torment to end. But she knew better … she knew no good thing would ever come here./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"'Wipe complete. Prep her for the mission.' The short man with the small red book walked forwards, towards her./p 


	5. Chapter 5- Mission Status: Started

**_Quinjet, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, en route to Europe-_**

 _'No, please no. I- the Asset- not I- did as you asked … I- it tried … it wasn't possible … no one could've- I didn't mean that- he didn't- it's my fault. The Asset deserves to be punished. Just please, not this- don't!'_

They didn't care, didn't even notice the fear clearly expressed in the face gazing, pleadingly, up at them, and even if they did, what did it matter? It wasn't as if the thing before them was human, not properly. That was right, Assets were supposed to be afraid, if not then who knew what they would do with their superior strength. There would be no control, no order. A booted foot shot out, coming into rapid, heavy contact with the Asset's ribs. Something crunched.

'Shut up!' The pathetic creature lying on the hard concrete floor, illuminated eerily by the yellowing overhead strip lamps, jolted in pain, it hadn't even realised that it had been speaking aloud. 'Move! Get up! Now!'

 _Obedience._ That was the key. Maybe, however unlikely, they would be lenient. The Asset almost laughed at that errant thought, but knew he would get worse than he was already getting if he did. The mission had been deemed a failure, the scientist's wife, a red-head, had got away with one of their children, a snot-nosed boy of about four. The Asset knew the price of failure; punishment had to happen and it was often better if it was just accepted. Faster that way, and usually marginally less painful. It obeyed its handlers and managed to pull itself to its hands and knees. Another kick. Stabbing pain. The Asset was sent sprawling, it's head cracking hard against the freezing floor. This time it was unable to regain its knees when ordered. There was another kick, then cold, unforgiving hands pulled the Asset up. Two uniformed soldiers, no, agents, half helped, half dragged it from the icy cell. The Asset knew where it was going. Someone was screaming. _No!_

Bucky Barnes jerked awake, a cold sweat covering his limbs. Empty eyes darted around the darkened main room of the Quinjet. Thank God all the others seemed to still be asleep, meaning that he had not called out. He didn't want to have to explain. Couldn't. The Asset- Bucky ( _what am I thinking?)_ however, did not relax his taut muscles. He felt dizzy, sick, his head was swimming and the world seemed to be taking rapid, and seemingly random, jolts to the left and back. _Breathe. Focus._ Bucky knew that he was on the verge of a panic attack ( _I can't slow my breathing!)_ and therefore quickly considered his options. One- stay quiet and try to keep himself calm (unlikely to work, he knew), two- try to deal with it/get it over with where he was, jammed safely between two high-tech, confusing, and apparent useful machines which he supposed must have some purpose. The corner had the advantage of being dark and safe, with all sides covered except for a gap right in front of him, from which he could observe the room unseen. This option, however, was still a little too reliant on hoping for the best, hoping the soldier wouldn't come, which was a distinct possibility. _Fuck, they shouldn't have woken me up._ There was still option three, however, which Bucky wanted, ideally, to avoid. It was to wake up Steve. Bucky did not want to do this, as it involved drawing Steve into his shit-show … but then again it was probably the way to go. If the worst came to the worst, Steve could at least control the Soldier. Steve also usually knew what was best. And, for some reason that Bucky could not really remember at the moment, Steve cared about him. But still, he probably shouldn't bring little Stevie ( _no, he is huge now, muscled … handsome … what? … when?)_ into this? Still, it was that or nothing as he knew from experience that he wouldn't last much longer on the brink. And it would be nice to have someone else there, which was in itself unusual, as Bucky normally weathered the panic alone, but with other people there, that was not really a viable option …

With legs like jelly, Bucky half-crawled, half-hopped, compensating for his missing limb, from his space between the machines across the too cold floor, trying now to wake anyone up with any unnecessary noise. Luckily, Steve was only a couple of metres away, sleeping propped up in a chair against one of the walls. He thanked whatever God who would have him that Friday was silently flying the machine; that no one but Stevie would be awake to see him like this. Especially not Wilson, Bucky couldn't bear to look weak in front of him. And, as for Romanov, she would just pity him; she was the one who knew the most about what had happened to him, the truth.

'Stevie.' He whispered, his voice hoarse and shaking, poking at his best friend's leg. 'Stevie. Wake up.'

Two second later the barrel of Steve Rogers' gun was pressed in the soft skin of his throat and Bucky was pinned to the floor.

'Jesus! Buck, don't do that!' _Quieter, please be quieter,_ Bucky willed, silently, _don't wake the others. I don't like the noise!_ Fortunately, the others were still too exhausted to wake up fully, for which the Soldier was grateful, and although most of them, especially Romanov, shifted in their sleep, they dropped back off fully in less than a minute. 'Hey, Bucky.' Steve seemed to have finally got with the picture with regards to whispering. 'Are you alright? Ya look a little shaky, buddy?'

The only response Bucky could manage to articulate was a small whimper, which, amazingly, Steve seemed to understand perfectly, following the Soldier back into the crawl space and sitting by him, rubbing his back gently, as he shook and silently sobbed, struggling for breath. _I can't let them hear me. I'll be punished if they hear …_

'It's ok. I'm here. I've got you. It's ok.' Bucky knew better, but continue to listen to Steve's constant litany of meaningless, soothing whispered phrases continued as he shifted closer to Bucky, allowing the Soldier to bury his tear-stained, puffy face into the Captain's chest. 'Sssh. Let it all out.' Steve's voice was too understanding, and so the Bucky did, crying messily, but almost silently, into cotton as the blonde continued to rub his back, nuzzling his hair. It felt good. Too good.

Neither of them noticed that someone else on the jet was awake, hadn't really slept, in fact. They didn't see the reflection of the light from the screens in Tony Stark's eyes. He was sitting almost directly opposite the space Bucky and Steve were crammed into, as far away from the Winter Soldier as possible, and had spent the whole night carefully holding on to a gun. Seeing what was occurring first he looked disgusted ( _how dare HE feel like that?),_ then odd, empty almost, and there was a touch of what could have been pity ( _I know)._ As a matter of fact, only one of the supersoldiers ever noticed his consciousness, and only when a bottle of still water hit Steve's leg.

It had a note attached: **You need to work on your observation skills.** Steve reached out, careful not to jog Bucky, picked up the water and looked over at Stark, crouched uncomfortably on his bench. _Thank you,_ he mouthed. Stark didn't respond, just turned over, apparently dead to the world.

'Hey,' Steve whispered to Bucky, attempting to coax him out of his shirt. 'Ya think ya could drink this, Buck?' Bucky, who had not seen Stark, quickly accepted the water, turning his face from Steve's shirt only to sip the drink.

The water made him feel a tiny bit better, a little more in control, which was always good. Still, that did not stop him from pressing back into Steve. _I'm awful, the worst,_ he thought, _I'm taking advantage of him, and he doesn't even know it. All because I want to be close to him, the only one I've got left. What if he doesn't want this? What if he wants the old Bucky? The one who died in 1944, even if Steve won't admit it … What am I thinking? Stark was right._ Staying buried in the soft, soothing material still, however, seemed like the best plan at the moment. He was safe there, well, as safe as he could ever be, and happy, so there he remained until Steve's breathing slowed as he entered the abyss of sleep, propped up by Bucky and the machine next to him. Bucky didn't sleep, however; he didn't trust his own mind whilst he slept and, although he would follow the blond Captain to the end of the earth, he would go anywhere his best friend went, except to sleep. There were monsters there, there, in the black depths of his own mind. And they were waiting for him …

It was due to that reluctance to sleep on Bucky's part that the two supersoldier were saved from complete and utter embarrassment when the other members of their team started to awaken a couple of hours later, when it started to get light in their current time zone. At the first sounds of gently rustling, Bucky edged gently, but firmly, out of his friend's embrace.

'What time is it?'

'Y'know this'd be a hell of a lot easier if we had Banner still. Shame we don't know where he is.'

'Ouch! Shit, Romanov, that was my foot!'

'Well move over then!'

'Language!' A few voices chorused.

'That's never gonna go 'way is it.'

'No.' Came the multitude response.

Realistically, the Quinjet they had been allocated was well and truly too small for the size of the team. Everyone was squashed, tired and stiff, and therefore not at their most diplomatic. Regular glares and swearing cast a damper on the already pretty tense environment. However, after a lot of complaining, generalised grumbling and a near fight between Nat and Tony, the whole team managed to find at least a semi-comfortable seating position from which they could take part in the discussions to come.

'So, what's the plan?' It was Wanda who spoke first, her voice quietened with sleep. In Bucky's opinion, the girl was far too young and naïve to be involved in this, despite her undoubtedly considerable powers.

'Land and corroborate with the locals.' Tony stated, blandly. 'Oh, and if we do end up fighting, Wanda, Rhodey and Frosty the Serial Killer over there are staying out of it.' _Good plan._ It seemed as though Steve didn't agree with Stark, and Bucky's, sentiments, however, as the metal of the computer-like-thing squealed in complaint as he tensed, pulling one hand through his hair. Bucky attempted to become smaller, to blend into the wall and keep out of the argument he knew was coming.

'Tony. He's sorry. I'm sorry. But he was brainwashed. And I'm personally responsible for keeping the information about your parents from you.' The rest of the team, who had not been completely filled in as to what had occurred in Siberia, were all listening intently, but pretending not to. 'Not him. For God's sake, we can't afford this much discord. Just try, please, just temporarily. As was said earlier, after this ya don't hafta see us again.' _Hmm, his accent seems to return as he gets agitated._ That just added another element to the mystery that was Steven Grant Rogers in Bucky's mind.

'Tell that to the dead.' The blond man huffed and seemed about to be about to form an angry retort when-

'Boys!' _Thank goodness for Natalia … 'Boys, ya gotta clean ya hands 'fore dinner or ya ain't gettin' none. 's plenty others to eat it.'_ A vision of a small, dark-haired woman danced in front of Bucky's (Asset's?) eyes. She was made plump with numerous pregnancies, and was sporting a sludge coloured, but perfectly sewn Mother Hubbard dress, and was brandishing a wooden spoon. Her glinting grey eyes matched Bucky's perfectly. _Ma? 'An' get the little fellas in! Hey, Steve, ya sure still are small. Wanna have some lunch?' I wish I had my notebooks. The first time I've managed to remember my family and I can't write it down._ From experience Bucky knew that the memory wouldn't last and that tomorrow he'd be struggling to remember his own name, again.

 _Back to the present though, I've got to stay there._ 'Stop it both of you! We're landing in half an our and have more important things to think about than your survivor's guilt and Steve's man-crush.' _What?!_ Steve made a strange 'hurk' sound and that oh-so-familiar blush was creeping across Steve's cheeks, spreading angry red down his neck. _Is he honestly blushing? For real? He's so cute … ! Where the hell did that come from? HYDRA can't have changed that part of me, as well as everything else, could they? I wasn't like that before, was I? I can't remember … but I can't have been …_ Still, there was something strangely scintillating about the blush, something, a similar something to the day before, when he'd been hugging Steve, that made him want to run his hand through that corn-silk hair and kiss Steve until he blushed that blush to his feet and they were both … _Fag! Queer! Disgusting freak!_ His brain admonished him in a way that was just a little too familiar, but the Asset wasn't sure why. _Honestly, Stevie wasn't in to that sort of thing, that snog with the Carter female had proved that, even if he had decided against it in the end. But then why had he blushed? He wasn't that innocent, surely, no matter what how he acted, he'd been in the army for crying out loud._

Bucky was so deep in his thoughts, so confused, that he didn't notice Steve get rescued from his embarrassment by Friday's announcement.

'Starting descent now. Please fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen.'

The minute the restraints clicked into place, and Bucky felt the rough material of the seat belt, Bucky could not focus, couldn't breathe. Bucky watched Steve's fingers stroke the leather of the seat, subconsciously. Pressure was building in his hears. The Asset yawned, he couldn't allow himself to be damaged, _they'd_ be angry if he did, and then there would be punishment.

 _Bump._ Bucky's head was spinning. There was an unfamiliar landscape outside the window, sun over a grey cityscape, a little smog causing the sky to have a slightly hazy quality. Harsh, rough breathing, _be quiet,_ he willed the person making the noise. _They'd hear._ Was that his own breathing? Ground. He needed to be functional, to protect Stevie. _Where was he?_

'He's crashing.' Someone said, a woman maybe. _What was? Where?_ The Asset could not see flames or feel a burning heat. He didn't understand. They would punish him for all of it, for involvement in a crash and for not understanding. _No, please no, don't._ Should he just tell them? Yes, they'd be less angry then and therefore the punishment might be less.

'The Soldier is not functioning at full capacity. In order to regain full function, the Asset should be wiped as soon as possible. Right arm is also no functioning. Repair required.'

'What's he sayin', Nat?' _Stevie?_

'He doesn't look so good.'

'I'm sorry, Steve, but I'm not translating that.'

'Why? What-'

'No time. I'll explain later. T'Challa, can you get a flight organised back to Wakanda? I think he needs to go back. Now.' _No, I can't leave. No now. Not Stevie. Not with them … the handlers?_

'Making the call now, Miss Romanov.'

'The fuck caused it?'

People were running around him, their voices loud and incomprehensible, their clothes blending into a mass of black in the kaleidoscopic ether behind his eyelids.

'Get a bowl. I think he's gonna hurl.'

And he did. Retching into a bowl until only bile came up whilst Steve rubbed his back and Romanova- _Natalia_ \- held his hair. The plastic was cool, _too cold,_ against his fingers. Slowly, agonisingly, the world began to reform, and he began to be able to breathe again.

'Ya back with me, Buck?' Steve sounded worried, tired again.

'Don' feel so good…' Bucky managed, attempting not to be sick again.

'I know, pal, I know. Gonna fly ya 'n' Rhodey back to Wakanda in a coupla hours.' _That's not right …_

'No, don' need to go. 'm fine.' He tried to get up, the world spinning dangerously around him, and was quickly pushed back by a pair of strong hands. 'Wanna help- _hurk-_ on'y one who can.'

'Как вы можете помочь , когда вы не знаете , кто вы? Это не помогает вам или Стив. Получить лучше , а затем вы можете помочь , сладкий . И, кстати , если вы спросили , я уверен, что он бы сказал, что да. Вы имеете в виду все, что ему , больше , что Шарон или Пегги когда-либо имели или будут . Он любит тебя. Он хочет быть с вами , мой бедный невинный . Он просто боится испугать вас.' _Trust Natalia to hit the nail on the head._ Steve was looking between them, confused. He'd never learnt Russian.

'Right, new rule, English only! And if he wants to stay, if he can help, why not?' _Was that Stark? Oh God._ Bucky stared at the other man's perfectly-made leather boots as they swam into his field of vision. _At least he didn't understand what I said. But why is he taking my side?_ 'Like the man said, he's the expert.'

The Asset-Soldier-James-Bucky was too busy controlling his wayward stomach to pay much attention to the ensuing argument; Nat and Steve versus Stark with the others occasionally intervening to air their views. He was, however, when not retching, becoming ever more aware of his surroundings. Somehow, as usual he could not quite remember how, they had ended up in what looked to be an unfinished apartment. The walls were a regulation, unpainted grey ( _like the rooms in Si- no, don't go there!_ ) and the floors an unfinished pine; he could feel the splinters pressing into his knees. There was one window in the room the team currently occupied, perhaps the basis for a living room- bulletproof glass, he noted, _how odd-_ must be a safe house. Outside the window, there was nothing, no neighbouring building, just a massive, slightly smoking crater, with open corridors like the mouths of abominable beasts yawning through the sides. They were blown open- _leading to a bunker maybe?_ A cold, horrid shiver crept up his spine. ' _They's someone a-walkin' on ya grave.' (had his ma said that?)._ Sod's law and his gut dictated that he would be going down into those tunnels pretty damn soon. _No shit Sherlock,_ he thought, _you always end up wherever there's crap._

He decided to voice his concerns as soon as he could control his stomach ( _well, sort of…)_. 'Hey, somethin' tells me we're gonna end up in that there bunker.'

'Looks like we're back.' Wilson, after looking at him for a minute, assessing him, poked him gently. 'He looks so real.'

'Kindly fuck off.'

'Cap, he said a naughty word.'

Bucky was actually grinning now, feeling a lot better than he had done in a while. 'Caw, caw.' He smirked in response. The others in the room visibly relaxed.

'Buck!' He'd almost forgotten Steve's opposition to swearing in any situation.

'Still don't like language, eh Stevie? I remember when you gave that mini-lecture to the commandos when-'

'Stop right there! You're embarrassing me now!' _There's that blush again._ Stark stifled a cough, which had sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter.

'Always been like that then, Rogers. And there's me thinking it was a new thing. Guess tigers never change their stripes. To answer Frosty's initial question, yeah, as per usual.'

'Well, what are we waiting for. The others have already gone.' It was only then that Bucky noticed that only Romanov, Wilson, Stark, Steve and himself were still in the room. _Situational awareness score- shit!_

 ** _Aurora Research Facility, Europe-_**

Half an hour later, they were exactly where Bucky knew they would end up, in those corridors. The bunker was just as bad as he had feared it would be. Dust from the explosion irritated his eyes, exposed without the goggles he usually wore on missions. The military issue strip lights, combined with the white tiles and steady drip of water from a burst water main somewhere gave him the creeps- it was too similar to a far more familiar facility. And he could almost swear he could hear the echo of footsteps ahead of them, or perhaps it was just his chemically enhanced, overactive imagination. _Please let it just be that._

Steve was in front of him, looking around warily, walking carefully so as not to twist an ankle on the debris, Natalia beside him, hand tense on her gun, ready, and Stark bringing up the rear, occasionally, and not so discreetly, pointing his hand-blaster-things at the Soldier for a little longer than was strictly necessary. Still, all things considered, that particular aspect of the situation could, in Bucky's view, have been a hell of a lot worse. As was usual in such situations, however, the minute that thought crossed his mind the laws of the universe reasserted themselves and Bucky yelped in surprise and pain as he walked straight into Steve, who had, for some reason, stopped. Heart thumping in his ears, Bucky's eyes followed Steve's into a doorway on their right. It was pitch black, a view into the unknown. The only sounds were the team's harsh breaths, all too loud, the water, an electrical whirr … and a small whimper.

That was when he saw it … a pair of pale grey-blue eyes in the darkness, staring right back at them. Another whimper. Pathetic and pained. Light from Stark's suit suddenly filled the room, illuminating the scene. The room was small, less than forty square feet, and had apparently previously been used for storing paper files, the contents of which were liberally spread across the floor, presumably by the explosion, and had then melded into a slimy mass due to the water leak. And there, crouched in the corner, was a woman. The source of the noise. Still staring at them. Terrified. Pleading. And chained to the wall.

 **Edited! Russian translation- '** How can you help when you do not know who you are? It does not help you or Steve. Get better, and then you can help, sweet. And, by the way, if you asked, I'm sure he would say yes. You mean all that is to him, more than that Sharon or Peggy ever had or will. He loves you. He wants to be with you, my poor innocent. He's just afraid of frightening you.'


	6. Chapter 6- A Tough Decision

**I'm back. Russian translations at the bottom (google translate I'm afraid). Hope you enjoy- there may be a little kissing in this one ...**

Two minutes. That's how long they had spent just standing and staring, rooted by their disbelief. She hadn't moved an inch; sitting hunched over as much as possible in her chains. A matted black tangle of hair obscured her features as she whined. It was eeiry, unnerving, standing there in the dark, surrounded by the unknown. Fuck, even the known was pretty scary.

'What's that?' Steve muttered to the group in general, shock making his voice harsh.

'Thought you'd recognise a woman, Stevie. You're more of a prude that I thought.' _I recognise her. Where from?_ Blustering confidence always seemed to help. Banter always distracted Steve.

'Oh go away!' _Hey, it worked. At least I remembered that correctly._

It was Natalia's turn now. 'How'd she get down here?' _Good point._

A very pointed glance passed between Steve and Tony, enmity somewhat forgotten with the situation at hand. Steve's hand moved slightly, indicating that he and Tony would advance whilst Bucky and Natalia stayed back. At that moment, Bucky was incredibly glad that the Iron Man suit made it impossible to see Tony's face or his reaction. _Where was she from?_

As the others started to walk, without any warning Nat discreetly grabbed the Soldier's hand. Bucky flinched- too much contact. 'Слушать. Тихо. Я тоже узнал ее , но я просто не могу достаточно поместить ее .' Luckily neither Steve nor Tony spoke fluent Russian, as far as he knew.

'ни.' Pulling his hand away from the unwelcome contact, the whisper was painful on his sore throat ( _cryo side-effect, normal_ , the Asset told him) and loud, much too loud. 'Отлично. Предположим, что вы все еще восстанавливается , хотя. Это моя память я в настоящее время беспокоит . Где, черт возьми , она - ?' Just as Bucky was about to tell Steve about the tense feeling making his gut clench, about his recognition of the girl, the pregnant pause which had lasted so long and had only been enriched by the whispers and the slight dripping sound from the burst main, was utterly broken. They'd been approaching the woman from either side and Steve had just reached out his hand, kneeling as he prepared to talk to the tortured creature on the floor, when it happened. She screamed. It was an unnaturally long, tortured, animal scream which invaded the eardrums and beat them into submission before beginning its assault on the brain. Lightning fast, the three former Avengers and one former assassin jumped back as one. Wincing, hands jolting with indecision between ears and weapons. Just as it seemed as though the desire to cover the ears had won, she stopped. _Thank all things good._ The silence was not broken by a quiet ringing sound, but they all knew that was just the complaints of their abused ears. The Winter Soldier was the first to recover, drawing his weapon and flicking off the safety as years of programming took hold. Both that and some unidentifiable other sense told him that the now silent thing, despite looking pretty harmless at the moment, was dangerous. _A threat. Probably needs to be neutralised. The Asset just needs to wait for his handlers to- no!_ 'Ow.' Steve was still unfocused with his hands hanging lax by his side. No help was coming from that direction. Stark was tapping his helmet, unseen eyes moving between Nat and the Asset. The Soldier had to act- to protect Steve. To work out who the woman was. To remember. As quickly as possible, given the circumstances, Bucky walked across the room to the corner. The paper slime made life a lot harder, giving way unexpectedly and gunking up the grip of his combat boots. _If ya fall down it's gonna hurt and ya ain't gonna be able to get back up with one arm. And then what? You'll be stuck on the floor with her._ _Shut up,_ Bucky told the Soldier. _I ain't gonna fall._ And he was right. Although he nearly screwed up at the last second because he was so busy minding the slush he didn't see the half-collapsed cardboard box melding slowly with the rest of the brown muck until his ankle was twisting agonisingly on it. Luckily he managed, just about, to catch himself, wincing as a stabbing pain jolted up his right calf. _Nothing broken? Good … Steve had broken his ankle once, when he was smaller. In a fight. Always fighting._ For a brief second a vision of a much smaller Steve Rogers lingered in front of the Soldier's eyes. Steve was lying on a tattered dark green couch, his blue eyes scrunched in pain and tear tracks passing amazingly long lashed whilst the doctor with the limp probed his ankle with cold, calm fingers. The Asset pushed the vision away; Bucky filed it for later- he didn't know how but somehow he knew that he couldn't afford to become distracted now. When he reached the woman, disasters avoided ( _thank God!),_ albeit narrowly, he stopped. She'd been here a while, he'd guess, the odour of stale sear and something sharper lingered around her. He hadn't noticed the smell before, but now it was overpowering, worse even than the damp and the sweet corruption of the decaying paper. _But they must have scanned the area? Someone must have worked here._ _Doing what?_ The more cynical part of his brain replied. Realising his current position on the slime wasn't entirely stable, the Asset shifted uncomfortably, twitching at the all-too-loud groan from his tac gear in the oppressive silence. Steve, Nat and Stark were watching him now. Waiting. 'Hello.' _Brilliant, Barnes. As if she'd reply to that._ The creature on the floor changed position slightly to look right up at him through dark lashes. Vertigo engulfed him. His heart jolted, then began to pound as the Soldier stepped back, recognition alive in his eyes. _Shit._ It was the woman from the CCTV recording, but that wasn't where the Asset knew her from. She looked different now, to be sure. Feral where she had once been immaculately groomed and beautiful. The matted, greasy mass of hair was the best thing about her current appearance. It was set off by too pale skin ( _like Steve's when he was sick, very sick),_ covered in dirt, paper-mush and something which could have been dried blood streaked across her cheek. The Soldier listed what was wrong with her; it was a long, long list and it semi-destroyed him. She shouldn't look like this. Her cheekbones were made too prominent through starvation. Clothes torn. Dead blue eyes. Old tatty clothes semi-melded to the paper-glue. Blood everywhere. Angry red wheals stood weeping on her wrists as she shifted slightly against the chains. And those were only the things that were obvious. Things he could see. At least the terrible pained whimpering had stopped, he noted. But the look in her eyes was much, much worse. They looked … empty. Yes, that was the only word he could find and even that did not do the look justice. She looked as though she was looking into hell, and had found it better than the abyss she was currently inhabiting. Better than her own mind. No, the look was more like she had realised that no amount of crying would help and had just accepted whatever would happen next. To be honest, with only to expression to go by, the Soldier would have presumed her to be dead. Shaking himself firmly out of his daze, and quelling a growing feeling of disquiet, Bucky carefully knelt beside her; an operation made much harder by his missing limb, but not impossible. A second jolt of pain danced up his leg as his knees hit the floor with an ungraceful squelch. Ok, maybe he needed to get that ankle looked at. Still holding the gun (he didn't trust her, even in chains) and forcing his voice to remain level, he asked gently as not to provoke another screaming episode. 'What's your name? Who put you here?' _That's a lie for a start. You know who she is._ No reply. He hadn't really been expecting one. Those blank eyes continued their forward stare, not even acknowledging the Soldier. Now that was unexpected. _What the hell have they done to her?!_ 'You sure she speaks English?' Both Bucky and the woman jumped. When had Nat got so quiet? And so close? 'Relax a little, _soldat,_ do. She's chained.' Bucky quickly scoped the room for further surprises but noticed, to his relief, that Tony and Steve were still a respectable distance from them. Steve was out of danger. Although Bucky knew full well that Steve was big enough and strong enough to defend himself now, he still had that adora-ridiculous, he meant ridiculous, habit of getting into fights with people/aliens/organisations much bigger than him. Bucky had preferred it when it was just Tommy in the back alley beating Steve; Bucky had been able to do something about that. At heart his friend was still that little back alley Brooklyn punk. It was infuriating and caused Bucky to live in a constant state of worry, but it also made him smile, a rare thing now. 'Кто ты? Кто поставил тебя сюда ? Можем ли мы Вам помочь? Я Наталья Романова . Это Баки . Вы видите эти люди там ; один в синем Стив , другой Тони . Мы здесь, чтобы помочь. Тише.' Well, Natalia had made some progress, Bucky thought sarcastically, the woman was looking at her. The dead stare seemed to unnerve even the usually unshakeable Nat, who almost immediately, bravely ignoring the blood, grime, mush and smell, started fiddling with the chains binding the woman's wrist. Anything was better than that stare. It only took her a couple of seconds to do them. Too easy. The minute she was free, the woman's eerie stare transferred from the wall, which it had moved to when Nat had started to release her, to her own wrists which she was slowly, pensively rotating. Then she leant forward, kneeling in the damp. 'Спасибо вам , мисс Романовой . Активы не имеют никакого названия . Этот актив готов выполнить .' Nat jerked back. 'Shit!' She yelped. 'What? What did she say Romanov?' Tony was half-yelling. He and Steve looked uncomprehending and scared. 'She said she's an Asset. A soldier. Like Barnes.' 'But they're all dead. I saw them myself.' 'Apparently there may have been other facilities. _Da._ Must have been. Пойдем с нами, пожалуйста.' The woman looked nervously from Nat to Bucky, then slowly, tentatively, stood up. Once she was up, Bucky reassessed her condition; it was worse. Perhaps critical. A bloom of something dark was slowly spreading across the dark-blue of her vest top. 'Natalia.' Worry punctuated his voice. 'She's wounded.' He was right again. At that moment, the woman's eyes rolled back in his head and Bucky dropped his gun as he lurched forwards to catch her. Three hours later, Steve and Bucky were sitting in the hospital waiting room. It was plain as anything, white, blue and sterile with the standard uncomfortable navy plastic chairs and the regulation warning and information posters. 'They think she'll be ok. She was lucky we found her then. Even with her version of the serum the doctors reckon she would have died of blood loss. Gunshot wound.' Following Steve's speech, Bucky slowly stretched. He'd been sitting in silence, deep in thought, for most of the past hours in the waiting room. He was worried not that he'd managed to place her and really needed to talk to Natalia in private. She'd understand. Stevie couldn't know, couldn't help him with this. 'Buck.' ''M fine. If she is an Asset,' _White lies weren't so bad, were they? Not if they were meant well._ 'what I don't get it why they shot her. If she's fully trained she'd be too valuable to them. It don't make sense.' 'Nah. It don't, do it? Least she's gonna be fine, though.' _Poor Stevie, so naïve._ 'Physically yeah.' Bucky scuffed his feet across the floor, staring at the marks they made on the clean linoleum. How could he make Stevie understand without scaring him? Or causing him to pity Bucky even more? Or revealing too much? 'Don't do that, jerk. Someone gotta clean ya mess.' The smell of disinfectant was messing with Bucky's mind. It reminded him of another medical facility. Siberia. Why did it always come back to Siberia? He had to tell Stevie, before his memories overwhelmed him and, at best, he had a panic attack and at worse … He had to get out. Disregarding Stevie's last statement, he leaned in closer to his best friend, mouth about an inch from his ear. Part of his brain thought he saw Stevie shudder, but he had to be imagining things. Bucky continued in a low voice. 'Emotionally and mentally not so much. The things HYDRA did- does- doesn't leave many physical scars. The programming.' He was messing this up. It was hard to speak, so hard. 'It-it-' God, why couldn't he stop stuttering. 'changes you. The chemical and electricity, it hurts so much.' Where were his words. 'You're so confused that eventually- eventually y-you surrender your identity. You obey. But even then they-they-' Bucky shut his eyes; this was too hard, he couldn't do it. A warm weight settled around Bucky's shoulders and he felt an immediate sense of calm. _Stevie._ Letting out a small relieved sound, he nuzzled into Stevie's chest, trying desperately not to remember. Instead he focused on the warmth of his best friend, his smell and he soothing sounds of his steady breathing and his heartbeat beneath Bucky's ear. The feeling of peace only intensified when Stevie started to rub gently circles on his back. _Ground,_ the Soldier told himself, attempting to ignore the odd feeling which, as his panic abated, had started to develop in his stomach region. _Not again,_ he internally sighed. Of course, Bucky was willing to admit to himself that he had been in love with Steve since they were sixteen, and had gone on a trip to Coney Island, but he'd rather die than the object of his affections find out. If Stevie knew that he was queer Bucky was pretty sure he'd be disgusted. He couldn't let that happen, couldn't live without his best friend. Still, the closeness of the hug was starting to make him uncomfortable, worried that his feelings would become obvious. Wait, was Stevie's heart rate a little fast. _Maybe his heart is playing up again. It wouldn't be the first time._ But be didn't have heart trouble now. Must be Erskine's serum; admittedly, the serum which had created the Winter Soldier hadn't changed Bucky's own heart-rate but who knew what Erskine's serum had done … Still, Stevie was here and supporting him, even though Bucky still wasn't sure he was worth it. Especially since he was clearly getting in between Stevie and the Carter woman. _Why are you still helping me? What did I ever do to deserve you?_ Feeling a rush of affection for his best friend's unfailing support Bucky turned his face upwards, an appreciative smile gracing his usually dark features. The Captain was looking down at him, a goofy grin meeting his best friend's smile. He was too close. Slightly dizzy and not entirely in control of his actions, the Winter Soldier leant in even closer. It was like he'd heard the words again, as if he was a passenger in his own body. _Oh no._ The Soldier watched as his body kissed the Captain. Then he was back, back in the moment, enjoying the experience he had wanted since he was a sixteen-year-old in Brooklyn. Steve's lips were soft and moist, he noticed, against Bucky's cryo-chapped ones. Hopefully he wouldn't notice that. It was amazing. Wonderful. Perfect. And it somehow managed to get better when Steve, apparently completely in tune with Bucky's wishes, started to move his mouth in return. Admittedly it was messy, uncertain but as their lips moved together the Soldier, for once, felt completely and utterly content. Complete even. Then something clicked. What was he doing?! Bucky pulled away, fast, but even that was too slow. Too late. Quickly regaining his feet he stuttered, panicked and kiss-slurred, 'I'm sorry- I-I'm- I just –' It was too oppressive, too much; the smell of disinfectant, the industrial neon lighting, and most of all Steve. He was sitting, his pressure reddened lips open; pupils blown in wide staring eyes which were directed straight at the Soldier. What had he done?! Steve would now hate him for sure all because of this momentary lapse in concentration. The Soldier had to get out. Now. So he did, slamming the door behind him as he ran, choking back tears, powering through the adjacent corridor. Heart pounding out of control and sweat beading his forehead, Bucky didn't stop running until he was somewhere in the bowels of the hospital, no, the maze. To be honest, he didn't care about his location; anywhere was fine as long as it was far, far away from Steve. Finally, some unspoken and unknown compulsion caused the Soldier to stop running. The corridor he was in was utterly empty, faceless and despairing. _I deserve this. I deserve to despair. I'm disgusting and I've ruined everything. Maybe it would be better if he just …_ Bucky leant back against the wall, crying for real now as he sank slowly to the floor. How could he have kissed Steve. For one Steve was straight and in love with Sharon … Agent Thirteen. _A threat? …_ Spending time with the other man had always been enough, he told himself firmly, holding nothing back. He'd never planned to tell Steve, just to support the blond and maintain their friendship whilst greedily lapping up any time he could get with him. Any hugs given. Oh Lord, he didn't deserve any of it. He'd betrayed him, especially when he'd jerked off after some of their meetings. Steve had never known though, not until now. Bucky had always felt ashamed about his feelings … But Steve had kissed him back? And the Soldier himself had been the happiest he'd ever felt …. Was that bad? … Maybe his friend had just been shocked, confused; yes, that was it… Steve definitely wasn't queer. Of course, Bucky would have to call T'Challa to be put back under cryo. That was the best solution. Then Steve could get on with his life, maybe marry Sharon, and be happy. Perfect. _And you won't have to face him? … Well, yes … that as well._ Maybe it was a coward's way out, but it was the only way his fractured mind could deal with. Just as Bucky was about to make the call, the sound of footsteps echoed down the desolate corridor. Heading round the corner at the end of the corridor stretch Bucky occupied was Tony Stark, now shaved and dressed in a tailored what-looked-like-silk grey suit. _Shit, why him? Why now? Of all people._ Bucky felt a huge surge of guilt, as he did whenever he saw Howard's son. How could you ever explain to someone why you'd killed their parents. _Mission report. December 16, 1991._ That was when it hit Bucky, robbing him of his breath; it really hit him. He'd killed Howard, his friend, and he'd allowed Zemo to destroy the Avengers. Slowly, Bucky looked up into the other man's dark brown eyes. Something dark lurked there. What, he wasn't quite sure, but something. And it said something else about Bucky's own emotional turmoil that part of him wanted Stark to attack him. At least he knew how to deal with violence; he'd had seventy years to learn that skill due to his handlers. Unluckily for Bucky, that wish was granted as Tony suddenly lashed out, pressing the Soldier up against the wall with his right arm. _Situational awareness- gone. You should be punished,_ said the Asset, _Tony Stark is right._ Bucky didn't even struggle. _If he kills me at I wouldn't blame him. I may even welcome it. At least then I wouldn't have to face … him._ With their close proximity, Bucky noticed the purple bags beneath Stark's eyes. The inventor looked ill. 'I don't know what the deal is between you and Romanov but, just to let you know, I had Friday translate your little conversation. Rogers may trust you. I know better. That programming is still there and if you are keeping one fucking thing back, one, and someone dies or gets injured, it's on the two of you. And I'll be sure to tell Cap you didn't talk and this time you will be tried.' Bucky swallowed, his throat painfully dry. Deep down, he knew Stark was right, that he couldn't live with himself if something happened to the others. _I won't cause any more damage. I can't cope with any more ghosts,_ Bucky thought. _But are you ready for them to know everything?_ The Soldier replied. 'This will never be enough, but I am sorry Stark. And I do remember. Call the others.' Did Stark look relieved. He certainly paused then, after pushing the Soldier once more into the wall, perhaps a little harder than necessary, pushed off. Turning, Tony walked back down the corridor, his phone in his hand. _Maybe after this they'll let me go back under. Maybe all this will be over finally … Yeah right._ **Nat 1- I recognise her too. But I just can't place her.** **Bucky 1- Neither** **Nat 2- Great. I suppose you are still recovering. It's my memory I'm worried about. Where the hell is she-?** **Nat 3- Who are you? Who put you here? How can we help you? I'm Natalia Romanova. This is Bucky. You see those men over there; the one in blue is Steve, the other Tony. We're here to help.** **The Woman- Thank you, Miss Romanov. Assets have no name. This Asset is ready to comply.** **Nat 4- Come with us, please.** **Hope you enjoyed it- please review so I know what you liked/didn't. Reviews make my day.** **Thanks for reading and sorry if the layout is odd- it was playing up a bit today.** **LizaCharley :)**


	7. Chapter 7- It's not like that!

Steve's POV-

Steve was still sitting in the same position on the same plastic seat as when Bucky had run out of the waiting room and was gazing, startled, at the floor. He'd shifted only once in the last five minutes, since it happened, to brush the bangs of straw blond hair out of eyes. It wasn't that he was unhappy or scared, far from it, quite the opposite in fact. He was, or at least should have been, delighted. The thing he had dreamed of for most of his life, one of his most private fantasies, had actually happened. _Bucky had kissed him!_ That was shocking enough as it was, especially since Steve had always assumed (and so had never felt the need to ask), with well evidenced reasoning, that his best friend was completely and utterly straight. _Apparently not…_ Perhaps he hadn't known Bucky as well as he'd thought, perhaps … It scared him that the one person who he'd thought he understood in this strange new world ...

Still, that wasn't the reason for his inactivity, or deer-in-the-headlights guilty expression. Horror and apologies. And that expression his friend _(crush?)_ had worn just before he broke the kiss and ran. Away from Steve. Again. That seemed the be their relationship in a nutshell. Bucky seemed to come back, but then get scared and pull away, harder and further than before. Would he ever truly return? Maybe Steve himself had screwed it all up. With all that Bucky had been through in the past few months he was probably just touch starved and confused. After all, Bucky hadn't given any previous indications of liking men … liking Steve … that way before. Before, Steve's bream had been just that; private. He shouldn't have kissed him back. Could Bucky consent, after all the brainwashing? What would happen now? …

Just as Steve's reverie was becoming plain panic a voice pulled him back. 'Earth calling planet fossil.' Steve jerked to alertness as Nat entered the waiting room, now changed from her Widow outfit into jeans, a shirt and a brown jacket. 'Woah, are you alright?' She gasped, noticing only then the expression on his face.

'Fine.' Nat's trademark eyebrow quirk made its arrival.

'Sure thing, soldier. You know that that's most people's way of saying that they really aren't fine. You look as if you've seen a ghost?'

'Look, it's been a rough few months, alright?! I've met my dead best friend, fought with most of the Avengers, including yourself, brought down SHIELD, fought robots and God know what else and now found yet another Russian assassin, proving HYDRA, who I've been fighting since the 1940s, is still here. Forgive me if it's just catching up with me!' A little harsh maybe, but Steve was, for once, tired. Tired of questions. Tired of fighting. Tired of being perfect. Just tired. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to just get up and walk out … _with Bucky._

'Hey! Don't bite my head off! I'm just trying to help.' Now Nat was pissed off too, and worried, her voice rising slightly. Steve felt a little guilty about taking his frustration out on her, but a harsh part of him was pleased. Pleased that for once he could complain, lash out.

The good Captain section of his being won. He needed Nat onside, and it wasn't her fault he felt terrible. 'Sorry, Nat … 'M just tired.' _And too close to tears. Not manful ones but messy, wracking sobs._ Wincing, he allowed his head to fall into his hands and let out a large huff of air.

'I know you don't want to hear this, Steve.' She said softly, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. Steve almost shrugged it off, he knew exactly where this conversation was going. 'But it might be an idea to talk to Sam about that VA therapy-'

'Thanks, but no thanks.' He replied firmly, determinedly mustering his usual serene exterior wall. 'Like I said to him, no therapist is gonna understand me.' _Why'd that Brooklyn '40s drawl have to come back now. It reminded him of another voice …_ Stop it, Stevie, you're tired and emotional. Don't go there.

At that point, he noticed Nat herself, who, to be honest, wasn't particularly good with emotions, was starting to look a little shaken. She settled softly into the chair next to him, grimacing at the hard seat. Moistening her lips, she tried again. 'Ok, just think on it, yeah? As for why you are sitting here, glazed. Is this something to do with Bucky? Did you argue? Is he alright? Where is he? You two seemed to be doing alright before, all things considered.'

'Umm. It is and I'm not sure where he is. We didn't exactly argue, you see.'

'No, I don't see. What happened? What did he do?' _Riiiiiing._ Steve had never felt more relieved to hear that noise. Nat was getting a little too close to the truth for comfort. Way too close, in fact. What would she think if …?

 _' … So ya haven't got anythin' to prove.'_ Suddenly he wished it wasn't Nat he was talking to as the small smile which had heralded the arrival of that memory turned quickly into a grimace. And there he was again, thinking of someone else who often struck to close to home. Some who knew him. Someone else who had kissed him.

Nat's POV-

'Stay where you are. Am sending car. Meeting back at the hotel. Barnes has info.' A little abrupt for Tony. He was notorious for sending the longest messages (excluding Steve who sometimes couldn't find the backspace on his phone but that was another thing). Tony usually tried to explain everything by text as he found it easier. He was one of the politest texters Nat had ever encountered, especially to women. The team joked, had joked (she had to remember the past tense. If only … ) that he seemed to prefer machines to humans. Maybe that joke had been a little too close to the mark, looking back on it. Tony, well Nat as well to be honest, and B-, well most of the team, found machines easier to understand- they didn't interrupt and rarely did anything unexpected. Perhaps if Thor and Bruce were there things would be better- they could usually talk Tony and Steve down. Still, there was no point dwelling on non-options. Nat had learnt that at a young age, in this business you had to be calculating, to deal with the situation you had, not the one you wished you had. Now, Steve needed her to focus on him, which she did. At least she could hopefully get at least one, very valuable team member back to full, or at least as full as possible considering the circumstances, functionality.

Seeing from Steve's body language that that pushing on with her previous line of inquiry was pointless, and possibly damaging to one of her few true friendships, Nat temporarily conceded. They sat in silence until one of Tony's/SHIELD's/whoever's (Nat had honestly lost track) usual be-suited man arrived and asked them if they would kindly accompany him. Steve opened the doors, also as usual, _always the gentleman- he'd make some lucky girl a great boyfriend one day. If he'd only start actually dating and not just the occasional awkward kiss._ Sharon had called Nat a couple of days before, to tell her that Steve had never called her back after Germany. _No idea._ They exited the building and clambered into the back seat of a black sedan whilst be-suited Agent-person climbed into the driver's seat behind the glass partition.

A minute or so after the suited dude had somehow got them out of the severely over-filled car-park _(successfully avoiding photos. However, Steve had reminded Nat to put on her seat belt, which she had replied to with another raise eyebrow),_ the Captain seemed to decide something. He straightened up from his previously dejected pose, took a deep breath which caused all his muscles to tense and look even more impressive than usual. He then seemed to relax, but Nat was well-educated enough in observation to notice that his hands were still tensely clenched on his legs, belying nerves.

Voice slightly terser than usual he spoke, seeming to want to get the words out as quickly as possible, almost as if he was about to lose his nerve if he didn't. 'Excuse me, Agent. Would you mind closing the partition please as I want to have a private word with Miss Romanov, if that's ok?' _What? They never really talked about personal stuff, as shown by the collapse of that earlier conversation._

Suited man also looked a little surprised but complied. Steve turned slightly towards Nat then begun which what she presumed was the reason for his nerves-

'Y'know how you tried to set me up with dates and all.' Nat tried not to smile, or gasp. If it hadn't been Steve she was talking to she would have known exactly where this was going. She had joked about this but had never actually thought, well, you live and learn. And if it was what she thought this was, it would be really cute! And would explain a hell of a lot, especially why his answers to questions relating to this topic had always been vague. ''N I kissed Sharon.' _Shit, this was actually happening._ She nodded politely, struggling even more (unusually) to maintain a neutral expression. 'Well … Actually …' At this point, for once, Captain America's legendary nerves seemed to fail him. _Oh what the papers would have made of that alone._ Taking a deep breath again, he launched back into the fray. 'I'mactuallyqueernIfanciendBuckyndhe'sconfusedandkissedmeandI'vemessedupeverything.' _Breath_

'Umm, what? I didn't quite catch that.' _A small lie, she'd caught most of it but wanted to get him to say it properly to come to terms with it himself._

Steve whimpered, actually whimpered. Then took yet another deep breath and, staring at his hands spoke slower this time. 'I'm queer and I fancied Bucky. In the hospital he got confused and kissed me. Then he ran off. I've messed everything up.'

A little chuckle escaped Nat before she could stop it. The Captain's face fell and she realised. _'40s boy, right? Oh Steve… How to handle this…_

'First, thanks for telling me this.' Her voice cracked a bit, and not from laughter this time. She could only imagine what Steve was going through if he had the misconceptions she thought he had. She was also genuinely touched that Steve had told her; she would have expected him to have told Wilson. But then again, in her experience guys didn't really like talking to other guys about their feelings, especially when both were macho soldiers and one was trying to come out. At least her confirmation of appreciation had got a very, almost imperceptible smile from Steve.

'Second, it's called gay or homosexual now, or maybe bisexual. Not queer of any other '40s slangIt's legal now.' _Was that a look of hope, no, longing?_ 'By the way do you like women in that way?'

He was looking down again now, at his feet. 'Yeah, well, I liked Peggy that way but-'

'Ok we'll go with bi- means you like both.' Ticking off on her fingers ( _this was way harder than she thought it would be and way out of her comfort zone)_ she continued. 'Third. It's ok. Barnes is a lot more self-aware than you think he is, well, most of the time- when he isn't the Soldier- from what I know of him. He's already had a year or so recovery. Yes, he may not remember everything, but he's not confused enough to kiss you if he didn't want to.' _Probably above Wilson's pay scale too, come to think of it. At least she'd one her bet with Tony, sort of …_

'But he ran-'

Hand held up in the universal, age-old stop sign, she firmly continued. This had gone on long enough and to be honest she was willing this conversation to end. 'Steve, Steve. That shouldn't surprise you. If Bucky is convinced you're straight and being gay is illegal then of course he would have run off. You're the only real friend he had and he'll be worried, like you are may I add, that he's messed up majorly.'

Unfortunately for the length of the conversation, Steve interrupted again, a blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck in blotches. Although Nat regarded Steve as nothing more than a good friend, she couldn't help but wonder whether the blush spread to his eight-pack. She'd only seen him blush that hard once before, a year ago; when he'd accidentally (or 'accidentally' and not intended to get caught) clicked on a gay porn ad on his new, and admittedly confusing laptop just as Wilson had come to give him coffee. The team hadn't dropped it for a week and his expression had been identical to the one he was wearing now. Acute discomfort and embarrassment. Suddenly it became a lot less funny as she realised that perhaps, as Steve had clearly been questioning his sexuality, they could have been a bit harsh. Guilt washed over her and she gently reached out and took the poor man's hand just as he spoke, still looking down, whispering. 'Is …I-Is he … l-like me? Do-do .. y-you think he likes me?'

Now it was Nat's turn to look down and sigh. 'I'm going to be absolutely honest with you.' _He'd always been that way with her so she guessed now was time to return the favour completely. They were friends after all._ 'I've never talked about Barnes' orientation with him and even then this is something you need to ask your friend, not me.' Steve's face crumpled. 'This is what I do know, however. Whatever he is, he's probably just coming to terms with it because, as the Soldier, I doubt he gave his sexuality any thought whatsoever. The point of that training, and the drugs they gave him, is to dehumanise the subjects, to ensure that they think of themselves as things, not humans. Sexuality is a something which makes us beings, and so he wouldn't have been allowed to even consider anything to do with it. I met him when he was still the Soldier, and since then I've either never had the cause to or been too busy to ask. Soldiers and widows were only permitted to work together, you understand? We didn't talk at all, let alone about personal stuff like this.'

From his expression, it looked as though Steve didn't know whether to be relieved or not. Hope seemed to flash across his visage, then vanish as quickly, then return. However, he didn't say anything else, just held on to Nat's hand and turned to look out of the dark-tinted windows into the busy street beyond.

After five minutes of Steve staring and Nat considering the recent revelations, she decided to break the now companionable silence again. 'Still, if he kissed you there's probably hope. And your second kiss since-'

'Nat!' She couldn't resist.

'Fine. But don't worry, I won't tell unless you want me to. It may be worth, now- don't bite my head off again- I'm not making you but it may be worth considering explaining to the others- just so they understand- Tony and Sharon especially.' In the slightly dusky light of the car, she almost could've sword Rogers eyes gleamed with tears, just for a second, before he spoke again. She couldn't be sure. His voice was barely above a whisper, broken even, and still directed at the window. 'No. I know where you are coming from. But I just can't. Not now.'

'Ok, I get that. Just consider it for the future. Yeah. I really respect you for this by the way.' He looked so worried and defeated that at that moment Nat decided to break the unspoken no touching rule (invented by Tony after he got a little weirded out after a couple of incidents) to pull Steve into an awkward, sideways hug.

Typically, that was the moment at which they pulled up outside the hotel, where they were greeted by Sam and Rhodey, who had apparently now been flown in although he remained confined in a wheelchair. (Due to recent events, Tony had been unable as yet to complete Rhodey's walking device.)

Yanking open the door, Sam was confronted by the rather unsettling sight of two of the scariest (if they weren't on his side and sometimes even when they were) people he knew, possibly on the planet, hugging as if their lives depended on it.

'Woah. No PDA. Jesus. Do you guys want a room or something? All you gotta do is ask?' A gleeful look had spread across his face.

'What's going on?' Yelled Rhodey in response, straining in his wheelchair to see around Sam and into the car.

As she pulled away and made to climb out of the car, Nat noticed that Steve had put on his 'Captain' persona. None of the scared man coming to terms with himself remained. No apparent PTSD. No anxiety. No depression. No emotions. _No Steve_. Just a leader. Admittedly, he did look a little pale and slightly strained, but nothing which those who didn't know him well would pick up on as being anything other than fatigue following a mission.

They followed Sam through the lavish lobby of the five-star hotel (Tony again- he liked to travel in comfort) to the elevators; Steve seeming to tense as the metallic doors shut. He didn't relax until they'd reached the tenth floor and the doors had opened once again. At the end of the faux-Georgian decorated hall a door was open, leading to some sort of conference room.

During their absence, the whole team had assembled and were spread around a wooden table on office chairs. Most were patiently admiring the view. The murmur of conversation made pleasant background, but stopped as soon as they entered. Vision and Wanda, seemingly getting on once more, were seated furthest from the door. Wanda seemed to be telling the being something about the cityscape in front of them. Peter Parker was notable in his absence. He had apparently returned home to a presumably fuming aunt May (he hadn't asked permission for the trip). Clint and Scott were both texting, presumably their families, as they were both smiling. The end of the table closest to the door was not such a happy place. Seated in three adjacent chairs were Tony, Bucky and T'Challa. The Prince seemed cool and collected and was, like Scott and Clint, texting. _Well, he did have a country to run._ However, Tony and Bucky seemed, to those walking in, to have entered a new, and henceforth unknown to humankind, plain of animosity.

The billionaire seemed to be trying to imitate the Winter Soldier's death glare, and was doing it pretty well. _If looks could kill, Barnes would have died the minute Tony found out about that mission. The footage showed that. And apparently the table would also have blown up, from the way Tony is looking at it._ Nat thought.

The reason for the death glare was twisting his chair in nervous, stunted little semi-circles and looking truly miserable. And scared. Above all scared. He looked as though he expected to be attacked at any time which, considering his background, was probably a valid fear.

When the newcomers had settled near the centre of the table, the Wakandan Prince finally, slowly ( _catlike_ ) looked up from his phone, stretched, and, in one smooth motion slid the phone into his pocket. Tony, taking that as a queue to begin, marginally reduced the severity of the death glare and spoke, voice harsh, belaying his emotions and lack of sleep clearly.

'Well, are we all ready to start?' As he surveyed the room, heads went down, no one wanting to irritate him further. _Poor chap,_ Nat thought. _He has everything, and nothing._ She usually liked Tony, she did, and he'd been having a rough time of it, but still, Barnes had been brainwashed. And as for Pepper, that was nothing to do with the rest of the team. They wanted to support him, but he had to open up first and soon, she hoped. Nat had stayed in contact with Pepper and knew Tony was in for yet another blow in the next couple of days.

Unfortunately, Rhodey didn't conceal his still amused grin following the car incident, and Tony picked up on it. 'If you're not going to take this seriously then-' _Snapping nastily, he must be in a bad way._

'It's nothing to do with this man. Just think Sam and I may have discovered America's next power couple, eh Nat and Steve?'

'Oh shut up.' _Seriously?_ Nat stormed back. 'It's nothing like that.'

'So why were you cuddling it that car?'

Cheeks flaming, Steve gave Nat a pathetic, pleading look.

'Well-' _How to explain without?_

Later, Nat would wish that she had just launched in and said anything as the hesitation made everything a hundred times worse. Rhodey, and then Sam's (albeit marginally better concealed) grins increased.

'There is no way we like each other like that.'

'Sure.'

Trying to phrase a sentence which finally put the matter to rest without outing Steve, Nat glanced around the room. Most of them looked amused, or at least interested. No- there was one notable exception. Everyone except the Winter Soldier. For a minute, he looked as though someone had stabbed him; a look Nat was intimately familiar with. Then his eyes seemed to harden to pure ice, and that trademark death glare was trained on her.

 **Please review- it really helps and I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading :) Am on Tumblr at LizaCharley and the little blog of interesting things if you want to have a moment about these boys.**

 **:)**


	8. Chapter 8- Will this meeting ever end?

**I'm back and hopefully should be posting regularly from now on, touch wood.**

Nat's POV-

It just wasn't Nat's day. Admittedly, it wasn't the worst day she'd ever experienced, she'd had plenty of days which could top this one, but it was definitely bad, and complex. Firstly, the ground was incredibly uncooperative and did not swallow he, neither did a chasm open up and swallow Rhodey and/or Sam, which she would have happily settled with. Secondly, she had absolutely no idea how to explain this whole horrible situation away without outing Steve (which would kill him), and no idea if any form of compromise was possible, and even if it was, which would probably involve her being made fun of for the rest of her life, how to proceed to a point where it would arise. Third on her crap day list was the fact that she was now 99.9% sure that if she didn't come up with a very convincing explanation the Soldier would probably kill her. Not now, but later. Nastily. Painfully. _Not my day to die_ , she decided … she hoped.

There was nothing left of Barnes in the death glare the Soldier was directing at her. No mercy. It took all of Nat's training not to sink into her chair under the intensity of the soldier's glare. Or just to run … to do what most people would do. What that look was designed to make them do. Perhaps, if she had not been trained at the Red Room, and therefore known with absolute certainty what the Soldier would do if she ran, she would have. _He'd follow me, and, well … despite what Cap says none of us really know what the ratio between Bucky and Soldier actually is. How much control Bucky himself has… And he knows how I fight._ That was what finally made up her mind. She was going to sort this here and now, ideally before things got any nastier, which, if she was brutally honest with herself, could only happen if Barnes actually hit her; although, come to think of it, it may be a marginally less painful than that glare. _Thanks Rhodey, thanks a fucking lot man._

Still, the ferocity of Barnes' reaction did make Nat wonder … _Interesting, maybe … well, if I'm right they might just need a little push. Kill or cure time?_ That plan had its upsides, the main one of which was that if would definitely shut Sam and Rhodey up … or worsen the teasing ... but Nat decided she wouldn't even consider that possibility. Hopefully it would at least get the Soldier off her case.

The team, well, what's left of it, if anything at all, couldn't deal with this right now, and neither could she. _I don't want a dagger in my back._ She'd been there, done that, and bought the fucking T-shirt, and had no desire for an encore.

Tension had permeated the conference room's atmosphere to a previously unknown, and agonising, degree by the time Nat stood up. All eyes were on her; Barnes' death glare, Stark's impatience, Steve's pathetic, pleading, puppy-dog stare. _Sorry, I'm so sorry, but it's for your own good, and hopefully you'll eventually understand, and speak to me again._ Admittedly, she would have to lose the Cap as a friend if she proceeded down her current course, and that would be a shame as he was the only one whom she seemed to be able to rely on constantly to have her back, one of the most important qualities she looked for in those around her. However, her friendship for him was completely and utterly overshadowed by her fear of the Soldier. _I know what he can do, you don't, not really, not properly._

Quickly covering shaking hands by crossing them (she wasn't afraid, merely anticipating the truly epic fallout that this was bound to have), to make her lack of confidence in dealing with emotional matters hopefully marginally less obvious. _No amount of training can prepare me for this._ Nat took a deep, steadying breath, then compulsively re-arranged the position of her water glass and began again, hoping against hope that this time it would be enough. And that Steve would forgive her.

'Again, sorry to spoil your fun boys, but Steve and I are just friends. I don't, I repeat, don't, fancy him, and he doesn't fancy me. I'm not his type …' _Yay for awkward silences!_ 'We also both like other people.' There, she'd done it, sort of. The expressions had changed to uniformed stunned, wide-eyed masks, except Steve, again, he was wincing and seemed to be almost, Nat thought concernedly, on the verge of tears. _I did this. Why does he have to look so betrayed?_ She thought, angrily. Angry at Steve for making her feel like she was kicking a puppy, angry at Rhodey and Sam for putting her in this mess in the first place, and most of all angry at herself, for being about to push Steve under the bus when the was pretty, no, completely certain that he would never do anything like this to her. Luckily for Nat, and a few of the rooms other occupants, as she was beginning to seriously consider hitting Rhodey, wounded or not, Sam chose this time to speak.

'Who? Not you Romanov, we know who like? What about Steve? Sharon? That girl from accounting finally? Lauren?' Wilson was, to Nat's utter relief, whether he knew it or not, giving her an out. Although, from the way Sam was looking, slightly ruefully at Nat, and trying not the catch the eye of Rhodey, Nat suspected that from what she'd said, and the way Barnes had reacted, that Wilson may have cottoned on. Adjusting her water again, Nat performed a quick, surreptitious scan of the room … she didn't thing anyone except Sam had picked up her hints. She knew that she could have stopped there but then again … _If I don't, he never will._

'Nah, they're not either.' _Why did I open my mouth?_

'Mystery girl then.' Wilson knew.

'Yeah. Well, he won't tell me at any rate.' Nat managed what she was pretty sure was the world's most awkward laugh. _Coward!_ Part of her mind screamed. But she couldn't have done it … not with Steve looking at her like that. Speaking of Steve … he was now looking beyond relieved and had flopped pack into his seat, exhaustion sharpening his features, all the nervous energy now gone. _Well, at least Barnes is looking a little less murderous._ 'Now … where were we?'

Nat collapsed into her chair as Tony stood. _I am not cut out for this._

Steve's POV-

 _Thank you Lord!_ God had shined down on Steve and, at the eleventh hour, saved him from complete and utter humiliation. Saved him from losing the one person with whom he actually shared any meaningful life experiences. His best friend. His pal. His Bucky. He had to get this under control, he had not, and he most definitely couldn't tell anyone else, not after what had almost happened. And he was also definitely going to have some words with Romanov when the meeting was done. _She promised._ Steve had always hated betrayal in all its forms, as, for much of his life, he'd been reliant on being able to trust those around him to have his back. A soldier had to have loyalty. People, that's what he valued … _pretending you could live without a war …_ well, that didn't matter, did it, this counted as a war against Hydra, it had never really stopped … had it? _… Put on the suit … SHUT UP!_

Steve leaned further back into his chair, briefly, whilst Tony was sorting out his tablet, and, as no one else seemed to be watching him, allowed the stress, the exhaustion, the emotions to show for a second. Then he quickly pinched his nose, put the façade back up, and lent forward again, placing his hands flat and loose on the table. Which, the artist in him noticed, was a rather interesting onyx colour. The Captain face was back, however, and that was all that mattered. He knew no one else could ever know, and they wouldn't, he would make sure of that.

It was only then, after he'd composed himself, that he noticed someone had been watching him throughout. Bucky was staring at him, concern plain in his eyes. _Why did it have to be him? … He can't cope with any more stress, doesn't need my worries on top of his, with all he is going through … Even if he was fine he still couldn't know._ It seemed as though Steve had found the one situation in which Bucky couldn't help him. Unfortunately, Steve also knew that, unlike the others (except perhaps Sam and the apparently untrustworthy Nat), who tended to take things at face value, Bucky wouldn't accept some half-cooked response when he asked Steve what was wrong, which Steve knew he would do almost as soon as they'd left the meeting, by the look on his friend's face. Some deep, dark part of Steve kind of wished that either the situation would devolve or perhaps Bucky would lean towards the Soldier for a bit. He immediately felt terrible even for thinking that. _At least that would get you out of this for a bit …_ Steve felt sick. Bucky would know if he, Steve, was lying, of course he would, they'd known each other too long for him not to. He'd know. This would require careful consideration, planning. _But what about the kiss?_ That treacherous part of his mind whispered. That thought he shot down immediately. Then, thank God again, Tony started talking, thereby allowing Steve to push his personal drama to the back burner. _One situation at a time …_

'Now we're all back on topic.' Pointed glare at Sam and Romanoff, which Steve felt was well deserved. _Ouch._ 'I've just got a message from the chief doctor treating the woman- they've, for lack of any other options- named her.' _They're trying to humanise her. And don't you look delighted about that._ Still, all things considered, Steve didn't blame him- entirely. Tony, if it was even possible, looked worse than he had before, pale, exhausted, with obvious bags under his eyes, and he seemed to be leaning rather heavily on the arm he had placed on the table. He was starting to look his age. And, if Steve was totally honest with himself, which he found himself doing less and less often, it terrified him. _How could he cope if … when … no, not for a while, please, not for a while … They'll all go eventually… all leave … What's wrong with me today? – I'm all messed up, all because of one thing … oh God … don't think about it …_

'- and so we, as per, are gonna have to deal with it. Captain Rogers, Romanoff, Sergeant Barnes, you ready to go?' Everyone had turned towards him. _What had just happened?_

'I'm sorry. What?' He managed to splutter. _Well done Rogers._ Steve didn't like the worried glance Sam gave him, but it was a thousand, thousandtimes better than the look of understanding on Nat's.

'To go get her … Remember? The thing we were just talking about? Nope? You were nodding?' _Was I? Brilliant._

'Oh. Yeah.' _Nope._

 _'_ Showing your age Rogers.' Bucky teased … wait … teased? At least someone seemed to have relaxed…

'Sure, just remember you're older'n me.' _That had sounded normal … right? That was the right thing to say?_

'Yeah, but I've aged better.' _Apparently that was the right thing to say. Good._

'No way.' How was Barnes not awkward? _No … he's tapping his foot … one of his tics. How the hell is he better at concealing his nerves than me … what with all he's been through?_

'When you two have quite finished-.' _Damn._ 'Well, we do need to get on. Then we can all get back to doing what we want to be doing, ideally nowhere near-.'

'Ok, I think we all get the picture. Let's go.' At least T'Challa was now there to intervene before any team _(what a joke?)_ arguments broke out.

As everyone collected their things (mostly just electronic devices; only he and Bucky actually seemed to have any form of paper, though Bucky hadn't actually written anything and Steve, unless the meeting was truly vital tended to just doodle as he listened rather than noting anything down), luckily, Steve didn't have time to think, to remember the time when he'd had a real team … _and his best friend had been truly by his side._

 **Tony's POV-**

Tony Stark really wasn't impressed. It had taken an inordinately long amount of time for everyone to sort themselves out, for everyone to get out. For them to just go. Only when he was alone again in the conference room could he finally relax. Collapse back, put his feet on the table, and shut his eyes … and try to erase the memory of _that_ conversation which seemed to have seared itself permanently onto his brain. Behind his eyelids he could see it all playing out … all the time. Rubbing his eyes didn't help, he'd tried that, tried that until they'd ached and burnt. Drinking hadn't helped either, he'd definitely tried that. Admittedly he hadn't remembered much after his last attempt on that front, but he could still remember that bloody, fucking thing. That thing that had finally destroyed him.

It hadn't even been a particularly long conversation, but the outcome … Looking back, with the benefit of hindsight, he should have seen it coming. Still, he'd though se of all people would have understood that Iron Man was the only part of himself he had any real pride in now. It was what made him good. What kept him sane. Still, now, what was he fighting for? Was it really worth continuing this? He was still pondering that when he finally, slowly, painfully, got to his feet and headed off. The next few days were undoubtedly going to be tough, even if he was actually focused. _Which I'm not … what the hell am I doing?_

 **My hiatus was unplanned and due to personal reasons and exams but I'm back now and hopefully the next chapter should be up within a week, if not sooner. Well, that's my plan! And I've visited Brooklyn! So that should add something to this hopefully! Please review as they are really helpful! And I hope someone is still reading! :)**


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